How not to be a Woodley
by winstonthecat
Summary: A tale of natural enemies and unlikely events. If there was one thing I could change about my life, it would definitely be my name. It has never done me any good, besides carrying a lot of expectations, of which I probably meet a whooping one and a half. Of course, the great James Sirius Potter couldn't care less. And - whatever he might say - I absolutely do NOT fancy him! Prat.
1. Legacy

A cool breeze swept across my face and I drew the thick cashmere blanket a little tighter around my torso. The sea was boisterous and the waves whipped against the cliffs with such force that now and then tiny drops of salty water would drizzle onto my face, even though I was up high at the edge of the bluff. My eyes were closed as I listened to the ocean, imagining – like so often – how it would feel to just jump off this cliff and dive into the unruly water. The thought intrigued me as much as it scared me. The sea had always fascinated me. It was so wild and so powerful; so unlike me.

I loved the ocean most when it was blustery like today; with fierce dark grey waves that didn't stop until they crashed against the coast with such an impact that over the years the water had carved deep holes into the hard stonewalls. Since I had been little, I had been fascinated by the fact that something so smooth like water could be strong enough to mould the rigid cliffs of Cornwall like they were made of clay.

"Seth!" I heard a high-pitched voice calling out for me from further away.

"Seth! What are you doing?" Ella sounded terribly stressed, her breathing ragged from climbing the slight upward slope to where I was lounging in a sunbed, snuggled nose-deep into a warm blanket.

"Reading," I said calmly, my eyes still closed. I had actually been reading before until my eyelids had gotten so heavy that it had been hard for me to keep them open any longer.

"You shouldn't be out here in this weather! There's quite a storm coming!"

I only shrugged my shoulders. "I like storms."

"For heaven's sake, girl; you cannot avoid them forever," Ella sighed and I finally opened my eyes to look at her. She was dressed like always in a blue and white uniform. The wind whipped strands of her ginger hair that had escaped her neat hairdo into her friendly, round face. Her warm brown eyes looked back at me with a mixture of concern and despair. She always seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.

"I'm not avoiding anyone. I'm just getting started on some school work."

Ella looked unimpressed. "School doesn't start before next week. It will be okay if you don't know _every_ book by heart. The other kids might think you are a nerd, you know?"

"_Oh_ _my_, that would be _terrible_!" I exclaimed theatrically and touched the back of my hand to my forehead like Victorian women did when they were about to faint, which made Ella laugh.

"Come on _Gangly_," she said as she snatched my cosy blanket and exposed me to the cold wind that had become quite strong by now. "Time to go."

"Alright," I sighed and pushed myself up from my comfortable lounging place. It was only now that I noticed how bleak the sky had become while I had been lying there. Thick, black clouds loomed above the ocean and the horizon was nothing but a hazy blur. The storm that was about to reach the coast promised to be fierce, yet I would have preferred getting soaked to what was awaiting my inside the house.

Classical music filled the spacious room and mingled with the torrential rain that was lashing against the large round-top windows. The view was completely blurred by the thick drops that traced wet paths down the glass yet I continued to stare. It was mesmerizing.

"Child, why are you staring out the window? There is nothing to see," my grandmother's voice sliced through the music and the rain like a knife, "Viola, why is the girl acting so peculiar?"

I glanced at my mother, who sighed with resignation in her voice. "She is only fifteen, Cecilia. Girls that age act curiously."

The elder, severe-looking lady puckered her thin, blood-red lips. "Cassandra and Vala have _never_ behaved in such an odd fashion. Have they, Edward?"

"Not that I know of," the stately, grey-haired man at the other end of the table supplied half-heartedly but I could feel my grandfather's cold, grey eyes resting on my face, which turned pinker with anger every second. I had to take a few sips of my tea to keep myself from talking back. Experience had taught me that usually this only made things much worse than just sitting through it.

"Of course, they also didn't get themselves stuck into the _wrong house_." The way Grandmother said 'wrong house' was probably similar to the way others would say 'eternal damnation'. And she meant every meanly pronounced syllable of it.

I could see my parents exchange quick glances and couldn't but notice the embarrassment that was always clearly discernible on their faces whenever the delicate topic of my 'ending up in the wrong house' came up. They didn't say anything in response, of course, let alone in their daughter's defence.

"Well," Cecilia continued with a sigh, "At least she doesn't look like a boy anymore." She examined me from across the table as she spoke. It was the first time ever that I heard something but disapproval about my person come out of her mouth. It was shocking, though I knew what Grandmother referred to, of course: My usually unflatteringly cropped hair that gave me the appearance of a ten year old boy, had grown past my collar bones during this summer and I had ditched my bulging huge sweaters for clothes that actually didn't come from the boy's section. It had been my own little rebellion, running around like that, knowing my family disapproved with all their hearts. This summer, however, I had decided that I didn't want to be screamed at again when entering the girls' bathroom. Also, the Woodley clan had grown surprisingly tired of harassing me because of my looks, which took all the appeal out of it, really.

"Yes," my father said with a smile; it was the first time this afternoon that he had contributed to the conversation, "She has become quite a beautiful young lady."

"Indeed," Grandfather mused, his deep voice void of any emotion. He waved his empty cup at Ella, who had just rushed into the room with a fresh pot of tea and another plate of biscuits. She looked quite stressed out, which was undoubtedly due to the visit of Edward and Cecilia Woodley. My grandparents had that kind of condescending air about them that made anyone in their vicinity feel like dirt.

"Of course, she is _absolutely_ lacking the grace and the charm of us Woodley women." My grandmother apparently wasn't finished with criticizing me yet; after all it would have been _scandalous_ if she had just said that I was pretty and then left it at that.

"OK," I finally spoke up before I would have had to endure another round of insults about all the ways in which I failed as a Woodley. "I think I'll just go to my room. _Granny_, _Gramps_; it was _delightful_ as always."

I pushed back my chair and tried hard not to look at Ella, whose eyes stared at me with that look that said '_don't do this_'. However, unlike most people, I wasn't scared of my grandparents; I was just irritated.

"If you will excuse me," I said firmly and, without waiting for an answer, I walked out of the tea room with my head held high.

"Outrageous! No wonder she was sorted into the wrong house, displaying an intolerable behaviour like that," Cecilia's voice boomed behind me but it got less distinguishable as I climbed the stairs to my room. Of course my grandmother would get started on the 'house-issue' again, blaming my parents for not raising me right. My family was obnoxious like that when it came to their legacy – a legacy I had broken.

The branches of the tall maple tree that stood in front of my window rapped on the glass, shaken by the rough wind outside. When I had been little, I had been terrified by this particular sound, always thinking that something evil was knocking on my window, wanting to come in. I would stare outside at the tree for so long that the branches had begun to look like knobbly arms that tried to pry open the window. As I had grown older, I began to distract myself with books whenever a storm would sweep over Cornwall and just read until I had fallen asleep. And even though I wasn't afraid of thunderstorms anymore, I had kept up the habit.

"Elizabeth?" The door to my lofty room swung open and my mother's head appeared in the small gap. "Are you reading again?" She walked in and carefully closed the door behind her. Her posture seemed terribly tense but she didn't say anything else and instead just sat down beside me on my bed.

"That was quite an evening, wasn't it?" she sighed and tucked a strand of wheat-blonde hair behind her ear. It was the same colour and wavy texture as mine but so long, she constantly put it up into a tight chignon.

"Sorry for losing it before," I apologized half-heartedly and put away the heavy book that had been resting on my lap. I hadn't even noticed that my legs had gone numb under the weight.

My mother gave me a small smile and shook her head. "They don't really mean it like that. Everyone knows that you didn't want to be sorted into-" Her voice faded abruptly and her eyes focused on the large, sapphire-blue poster that hung above my bed. A bronze eagle was stretching his long wings lazily across the paper as though he had just woken up from a nap.

"Ravenclaw," I supplied unnecessarily, "I'm in _Ravenclaw_."

It upset me that my parents couldn't even _say_ it, let alone be proud. All they ever contributed to my ending up in Ravenclaw was that '_it wasn't my fault'_, but they probably guessed that there was really more to the story. It was said that the sorting hat took personal choices into account, which should make it fairly easy to end up in the house of your choice. At my sorting, however, I had felt like I hadn't had to tell the ragged hat anything – he had already known.

'_Ah, a Woodley_,' it had whispered into my ear that fateful evening, '_let's see, there is a lot of ambition. Good brains too. But you are not a Slytherin at heart. Oh, you knew that already, didn't you? Yes, we both know you should be in _RAVENCLAW_!'_

Slytherin should have been my legacy. My destiny.

For more than 500 years, the Woodleys had prided themselves on being so exceptionally pure in blood that, even before the sorting hat of Hogwarts was placed onto their heads, it declared them to be in the House of Slytherin. For generations this had been the case without exception. Hence, when it was time for me to go to the school of witchcraft and wizardry, my parents – both of them Slytherin legacies – had me decked out with green and silver school attire before I had even boarded the Hogwarts Express.

I was glad I hadn't been there to see their faces when they had received my owl the morning after the sorting five years ago.

"Your grandparents are leaving," my mother said quietly, finally prying her eyes from the poster above my bed where the bronze eagle had flown out of view, "You should come say goodbye."

She had gotten up from my bed again and smoothed down her smart Chanel trouser suit. Her smile looked insincere, like it always did when she was trying to cover whatever unpleasantness we might have been discussing.

When I walked into the great foyer, the whole family had already gathered in front of the stately marble fireplace. My grandmother had pulled her long ruby cloak around her, which made her look like a giant bat. Unlike the people of my generation, my grandparents had never taken to dressing in Muggle clothes. To them, jeans and T-shirts were despicable excuses for clothes that should be banned by wizarding law. They probably had never even heard of Top Shop.

"Travel safely," My father said in that typical rigid voice that he always used when he was talking to his parents. Their relationship was awkwardly formal and distanced; even worse than the relationship that I had with my parents.

"We will. Goodbye." As my grandmother spoke, her thin lips barely moved and her unforgiving eyes rested on me with distaste. It was obvious that she disapproved of me; every fibre of my body.

With my head held high I stepped over to the green flames that were roaring in the fireplace by now. Quick, icy words of farewell echoed in the hall and I watched her walk into the fire, her cloak still wrapped around her like enormous wings. Grandfather followed her lead after adjusting his hat and putting on his elegant dragon-skin gloves. Yet, just before he stepped into the fireplace, he turned around once more, looking straight at me.

His eyes were of a dark grey: The colour of storm clouds. It was the 'Woodley eyes', as my father had so often told me; charcoal irises that looked like the ocean just before a thunderstorm.

I knew them well. They were _my_ eyes too.

Shape-wise they were my mother's, big and round; yet, the unusual colour was a genetic trait that neither my father nor my aunt or my cousins had inherited.

"I expect to see you at Christmas dinner."

It sounded as though Grandfather was addressing all of us, yet his gaze lingered on me so intently that it grew silent for a moment.

"Um, yes. Of course," I finally managed to say.

Grandfather gave me a microscopic nod before vanishing into the green flames and with a great, loud swoosh the fire had died, leaving the fireplace empty.

No one said a word for what felt like eternity, the weirdness of the previous moment still lingering in the air like perfume. Grandfather had never been a man of many words. If he spoke, he spoke curtly and to the point instead of indulging into lengthy speeches; most of all when it came to me.

"I think I've had enough awkward family moments for today." I turned on the spot and quickly fled upstairs to my room before my parents had the chance to call me back. The afternoon had been exhausting and all I wanted was to go back to my Transfigurations book and read until I fell asleep.

* * *

><p>AN: Hello there reader! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I would love to hear what you think about it :)


	2. Hogwarts Again

Thick clouds of steam wafted into the air, blending in seamlessly with the overcast sky. The platform was bustling with people like it only ever did at the end of September at the start of the new academic year. Towers of luggage piled high in front of the long scarlet train that - despite standing still – was fuming like an angry dragon and the indignant cries of hundreds of owls that were trapped in their travel cages rose above the lively crowd.

I always wondered how it was possible that no Muggle ever got suspicious at seeing an alarming number of people carrying owls and cats through King's Cross and vanishing abruptly into a seemingly solid stretch of wall. I knew that people could only see what they want to see but it didn't stop baffling me that waves of people walking through walls had never caught any attention.

When I had been ten and about to go to Hogwarts for the first time, I knew that someone had watched my disappearing through the barrier between Platform 9 and 10. I had looked into the man's eyes – a typical London businessman by the look of his suit and briefcase – as my parents had nudged me forwards to the wall and right on through. He must have seen it. I was sure. But he had probably just shook his head to himself, taken an aspirin and moved on.

"Will you write?" My mother gave me a small smile and hooked a stray strand of wheat blonde hair behind my ear.

I only nodded in response, not wanting to diverge on the subject. Writing to my parents was a delicate task; I had long learned that I couldn't share any news that were related to Ravenclaw or anything that might remind them that I was _not_ in Slytherin; which was particularly _everything_. Hence, my so-called letters usually consisted of a plain two-liner, saying that I was doing OK.

"If you need something…"

"I will let you know," I ended my father's sentence and pulled the olive green parker that I was wearing over a pair of cropped skinny jeans a little tighter around my torso as another gust of nippy air swept across the platform. Summer sure seemed to come to an end.

"OK," I said after an awkward period of silence. My parents looked a little stiff as they stood there in the chilly evening, wind roughing up their expensive designer outfits, "See you at Christmas, I guess…"

"Yes," my mother nodded quickly and clasped my shoulders in a quite awkward almost-hug. Hugging had never been a family thing; messed-up parent-child relationships, however, were good clues that you were a true Woodley.

I turned away from my family and quickly strode towards the nearest opportunity to board the train.

"Take care," My mother suddenly called out to my back just before I had climbed the stairs. I paused for a millisecond, turning around to give her a tiny nod and then quickly took the last few steps to board the Hogwarts Express.

The corridors of the ancient train were teeming with students who flitted from one compartment to the next, talking in excited voices. It was the usual back-to-school fuss that started as soon as one had boarded the Hogwarts Express and it always felt like a small piece of home.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed on through the narrow hallway, balancing the cage that held my brown-and-white-spotted boreal owl Archimedes (who had gotten quite huge over the summer) and my large leather tote bag that I had slung over my shoulder.

A wave of girlish laughter reached my ears just as I passed another compartment and through the windows I could see a group of girls in designer clothes, giggling and screeching. Two of them were sitting on their friends' laps since the seating was only designed for six people but they didn't seem to care all that much. I knew those girls, of course; they were all in my year and immensely popular.

A particularly shrill laugh pierced the mix of moderate clatter and I didn't need to look to know that it belonged to Vala Carrington. My cousin was sitting in the left corner of the crammed compartment, throwing her head back laughing in a quite ostentatious manner that was typical for her.

Even though she wasn't carrying the name, she looked more like a Woodley than I did; her hair had the characteristic dark brown shade and pin-straight texture that ran in the family. Her nose was more prominent than mine with a slight up-turn and her lips were thin like those discernable on dozens of paintings in our grandfather's study. There wasn't even a single freckle on her pale skin, which always pleased our grandmother vastly and gave her a chance to point out how 'common' the few light brown dots that were sprinkled across my nose looked. Only Vala's hooded brown eyes did not come from the Woodley genetic pool.

A hard shove from behind, finally made me pry my eyes away from the girls in the compartment and move on along the corridor. Outside of our rigid family gatherings, Vala and I didn't even so much as greet each other, let alone socialize.

I passed a few more bustling compartments when finally I reached one that was almost empty except for a girl with short auburn curls and a violently pink glittery top that seemed to mock the green army pants covering her legs. Her face was buried in a Muggle gossip magazine while she was kicking her right leg back and forth, seemingly not taking any notice as I pushed open the sliding door and manhandled my heavy luggage onto the empty row on the right side.

"Finally. You have followed my invitation," she said with a strong Italian accent without looking up from her magazine.

"You know, you'd look much more mysterious without a magazine that announces 'Seven Super Weight-Loss Tips in Seven Days'"

"For God's sake, Seth!" She cried laughing, her accent completely vanished. "You're such a party-pooper!"

"I'm allowed to. I have a crap family." I plopped down onto the empty seat across from her, snatching one of the glossy magazines, poking out of her bag. As always, my best friend Katie was traveling with an assortment of light entertainment from the muggle world.

"The woes of being a Woodley," she sighed, discarding her own issue of InTouch to give me her full attention. "Let's see; I can smell guilt with a little hint of rigid self-doubt and a dash of ancient fire whiskey. How are your grandparents?"

"Well, after shaming me for being in Ravenclaw _again _and not having any ounce of grace, or any other presentable abilities _again_, my grandmother actually said something bordering to not mean." I had thrown the copy of People Magazine away again, too agitated to actually read about Kim Kardashian's nudes.

"Ah, bless them." Katie smiled sarcastically. "I bet Cecilia liked that you don't look like a ten year old boy anymore."

"I never looked like a ten year old boy!" I cried indignantly, hurling my already crumpled magazine at my best friend. It missed by several inches and hit Archimedes' cage, who hooted reproachfully.

Katie raised her eyebrows, amusement curling her glossy lips. "Just last year, Demeter Notte had a meltdown when you came into the girls' bathroom."

"Demeter Notte also cried when we had hush puppies for dinner last Halloween, because she thought they were actually made from puppies."

Katie snorted but I knew that everything she had said was true; I had never looked like a girl; not only was I lacking in the curves department but also the fact that my nickname was Seth didn't really help to reveal my girly side, either. I wasn't sure that growing out my hair and a new wardrobe would really change anything, since I still didn't have hips and boobs to match the girls in my grade, but I had just gotten tired of trying to be my family's nightmare all the time and decided to finally look a little bit more like myself.

"Have you seen Kim's nudes? They're appalling!" Katie waved the magazine I had previously discarded in her hand.

"No, let me see!" I immediately moved onto the seat next to her and together we immersed in the scandalous muggle gossip while the train rattled on through thick wafts of fog. It felt good to be home again.

The ride up to the castle in the ancient carriages was rather unpleasant; hard rain was lashing from the black sky, shaking the magical vehicles so roughly that everyone was relieved when we touched ground again. A mass of black-cloaked figures, all with their hoods pulled tightly into their faces against the heavy downpour, streamed through the wide, impressive front doors into the castle, pushing forwards to get out of the rain.

Katie and I had fallen to the back, wedged in between a group of loudly chatting people that, by the sound of it, were bubbly second year Hufflepuff girls who had been riding the Thestral-drawn carriages for the first time this year.

"I can't believe this!" Katie huffed angrily as she shook the thin candy pink object in her hands so violently that it almost slipped out of her grip.

I only shook my head laughing. "You know that technical devices don't work at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, well, I thought they might have fixed that by now. Google could save us so many hours in the library," Katie sighed and let her smart phone slip back into the pocket of her cloak.

"Probably that's why they keep it that way."

I pulled off the hood of my black cloak when we entered the great hall and loosened the ribbon around my throat that held it together. The thing always felt too heavy; too suffocating.

"Over there?" Katie asked over the general clatter, pointing at a free space at the long Ravenclaw table. I only nodded wordlessly and followed my friend through the throngs of students until we had reached the empty seats in between Sam Henderson, a sixth year and Ravenclaw prefect, and Milina Jacobson, a perky seventh year.

"I hope the sorting goes fast," Katie sighed as we sat down next to each other, "I'm starving."

"Um, Seth?" The voice came from my right, carrying a definite hint of surprise.

"Sam?" I replied awkwardly, raising my eyebrows at the tall, dark-haired boy that had just addressed me. Oddly, he looked at me as though he was seeing me for the very first time, which is weird, considering that we had been going to school together for five years already.

"Um, I wasn't sure if-" he trailed off midsentence but continued to stare at me with a dim half-smile on his face, "How was your summer?"

"Good, I guess," I replied slowly, still perplexed. Sam had never asked me about my summer before. In fact, he had never asked me _anything_ personal before. Our conversations usually revolved around our Prefect duties and never lasted longer than a few minutes.

"Good," he echoed, his grin growing even wider. The way Sam was looking made me feel quite awkward and Katie's feet kicking against my shin underneath the table didn't make the situation any easier. His eyes were constantly traveling from my hair down to my legs and up again and the grin never faded from his lips.

This was weird. Not only because something like this had never happened to me before but also because I really hadn't changed that much. I was still me, just with different hair.

The sorting, as always, had taken quite a while as the sorting hat liked to take its time; the students grew more numerous with every year as well, which prolonged the procedure even further.

As usual, the plentiful meal had been worth the wait and everyone in the Great Hall had tucked in hungrily until all four house tables had cleared themselves. It hadn't been long after the food had vanished that Professor McGonagall had bid us all good night and the Great Hall cleared again as the students streamed out into the halls of the ancient castle.

"I think Sam is watching you," said Katie with a smirk. She was climbing the last few steps up to Ravenclaw Tower next to me as I guided the awed crowd of first year Ravenclaws to our common room. "You know, he _is_ mildly popular. If you play this right we might even get invited to a party or two."

"Yeah, sure," I replied sarcastically, "Because Sam Henderson was checking me out. That changes everything."

"Seth, Be serious, OK?"

"I am. I'm not going to _play_ with anything. Most of all not with Sam Henderson."


	3. A Pool of Teenage Hormones

It was a glorious late summer day and the sweeping grounds of Hogwarts were dappled with brilliant sunlight. The lake looked like a giant pool of light that was only occasionally disturbed by a giant tentacle breaking through the surface and vanishing again.

"Even the giant squid seems to want to catch a few warm rays of sun before the winter," Katie mused, staring out of the tall window, "And we have to sit in here."

She gestured roughly into the room, probably meaning to refer to the Transfiguration classroom in general.

"It's only the first day," I whispered back to my best friend as I watched Professor Hockanum, head of Hufflepuff House, striding back and forth between the tables, checking on the students, who were trying to transform matches into miniature trees. In front of me there was already a perfect miniature apple tree with white pedals that trembled in a magical breeze. Katie had succeeded too, though her tree was rather bare without any leaves or fruits on its branches.

"It's a winter tree," she explained shrugging, before leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes as warm rays of sunlight illuminated her face. Katie was a brilliant witch but mostly she simply couldn't be bothered, which actually was a trait I deeply admired about her. Letting go wasn't one of my strong suits but she got me to loosen up a bit. Katie and I literally found each other. We picked each other up as cliques began to form in our first year and – not quite fitting in with anybody else – we became our own group.

"This is very good, Miss Banks," Hockanum had appeared at our table at last, nodding approvingly at the sight of Katie's bare tree. "One of the best works I have seen today. But oh-," his face seemed to light up when his eyes fell on my tree, whose twigs bent under the weight of dozens of ripe miniature apples.

"How magnificent," he boomed, "Everyone, come and have a look at Miss Woodley's tree. Now I don't expect all of you to be able to produce such advanced magic at this stage of practice but it can't hurt to have a bit of _stimulation_."

He stroked the tree gently, still looking completely delighted. "Well done, Miss Woodley. Fifteen points to Ravenclaw. Now I only wonder if," he mused and simultaneously plucked a dark red apple from the tree, holding it in between his thumb and index finger. Then he popped it into his mouth and a smile appeared on his face. "Delicious."

"You need to preserve this extraordinary piece of magic." He conjured a small pot with soil from thin air and skilfully planted my apple tree in the middle.

"Thank you, Professor." I took the pot and carefully cradled it in my arm, ignoring Katie's massive eye-roll.

"You know," she sighed deeply as the bell rang, "you might not look it anymore, but you're a terrible nerd."

"Thanks for your loving support." I laughed as we lined up behind the other students, balancing my tiny tree in one hand and a pile of books in the other. The way to the hallway had cleared but as I followed Katie through the door, I suddenly felt a push from behind and stumbled. It was inevitable; I could literally feel how my fingers lost grip of the pot: Like in slow motion, the mini apple tree flew out of my hands and shattered on the ground of the hallway. The hard collision with the stone had knocked all magic out of it and it fell apart into a heap of earth, and matches.

"James!" A girl's voice giggled next to me. "Look what you did you nasty boy!"

Athena Notte, a beautiful 7th year Gryffindor with swishy dark hair and curves that I could only dream of, threw a playfully reprimanding look at the outrageously handsome, tall boy to whose arm she was clinging.

"Sorry, didn't see you," he said carelessly without even looking at me or the mess he had created and they moved on, Athena's giggles echoing faintly through the hall. Of course, there was nothing sincere about the apology.

James Potter probably didn't give a flying snitch.

"Thanks a lot," I just mumbled to myself as I bent down to collect the pieces of what was left of my tree. Katie was crouching next to me within a second, her eyebrows furrowed with rage.

"Fucking prick!" She cursed loudly enough for the passing students to hear. "You know, just because he is kinda good looking, he thinks he can treat people like his personal doormat."

I couldn't help smiling at my best friend's rant. "_Kinda good looking_?" I repeated, raising my eyebrow at her. "Just yesterday you elaborated on how you would like to 'smack his delicious tight bum'."

"Yeah, well." Katie didn't blush, which – besides her relaxed nature – was one of the traits I admired most about her. "I still stand by that. But I would make it painful."

Laughing we cleared the stone floor of the last stray matches that rolled around before ambling over to the Great Hall, the tree quite forgotten by the time we sat down at the Ravenclaw table. There was no use in crying over spilt milk. It wasn't the first time that James Potter thought he could just walk all over other people without facing any consequences. He never did, actually. As the much appraised and adored captain and seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, he didn't _need_ to worry about consequences. I would have loved to tell him what I thought about him. What I had been thinking about him for five years now. That he was an arrogant, insensible git; but at the off-chance that he even knew I existed, I wasn't going to stoop to that level.

The first week of classes seemed to fly by as usual. It was only then that I felt properly at home again after a summer that had dragged on, especially towards the end. Most people complained, of course; about the educational routine, the homework, and the end of the holidays. To me, however, Hogwarts meant freedom.

"How boring!" Katie cried out, her blue eyes rolling with an air of ennui that I had never seen on anyone but her. "A whole summer and the most interesting thing people talk about is Demeter Notte's hair. Seriously, this school is going to the dogs." She pushed through a crowd of second years quite ignorantly. "I mean, it doesn't even look that great, you know? All that fake blonde seems to seep into her head too. Why else would you ask what kind of juice was in polyjuice potion?"

"And yet you seem strangely enthralled with her," I teased her as we walked into the great hall, where the house tables were already creaking under the weight of the delicious smelling dinner. "Maybe you should ask her out."

"You know, maybe I should." She had laden her plate with heaps of mashed potatoes. "Then people would at least have something to talk about."

I shook my head laughing; Katie had always loved gossip and, frankly, I profited from her ability to always know the latest rumours. It was inevitable at a boarding school, really; basically Hogwarts was a pool of teenage hormones running wild. What else were you supposed to talk about?

"What's with the books, nerdy birdy?" Katie pointed her fork at the pile next to my plate.

"Detention tonight." I replied between bites and she nodded. I didn't need to elaborate for Katie to understand. I really wasn't the type to get into detention. In fact, rather the opposite was the case; as a sixth year prefect, it was one of my duties to monitor detention, which, I had heard, was a dull job that was best spent doing something productive.

"It's the first week of classes. Who managed to get themselves into detention already?"

I shrugged, stuffing half a treacle tart into my mouth. It was already past six o' clock and I didn't fancy losing house points for showing up too late to my prefect duties.

"Seth! Hey!" Someone suddenly shouted across the room and I saw Sam Henderson waving at me grinning. Katie and I could barely exchange irritated looks before he had slid onto the bench right next to me.

"How are you?"

I was still chewing on the gigantic piece of treacle tart, forcing a great lump down my throat. If that wasn't sexy, I don't know what was.

"Good," I mumbled between bites. If my grandmother had witnessed my lack of social graces she would have probably suffered a heart attack. According to her, I was a hopeless case; a view that was confirmed by my absolute inability to conduct appropriate small talk.

"You look really nice," he still grinned, apparently unabashed by my awkwardness

"Thank you?" It came out more like a question than a statement and I glanced at Katie, seeking help. This was really not the kind of conversation I was good at. Was Sam flirting with me? Was I supposed to flirt back?

Katie gave me a miniscule, encouraging nod.

Great.

"Um, did you need anything?" I asked lamely and could see Katie shaking her head from the corner of my eye. I knew I had blown it but talking to boys just wasn't my thing. Sam looked slightly taken aback, but only for a moment.

"I just wondered if you were going to the party tomorrow? The back-to school party, you know."

Parties weren't my thing either, but in this case, he wouldn't have had to specify which party he was talking about. After all it had been a tradition for several years now; it was _the _event of the semester and everyone wanted to go. Except for me. I am too awkward for parties, really.

"I, um, I still have to-"

"Sure!" It was Katie who suddenly piped up, interrupting my lame attempt at an excuse. "Sure, we're going. Aren't we, Seth?"

"Um, yah, maybe,"

"Definitely!"

I looked at Katie, shaking my head curtly but she just continued to beam at Sam.

Great. Just great.

"I have to go," I finally managed to say after quite an awkward period of silence in which Katie kept nodding at me as though trying to hypnotize me. My books all dropped to the floor, of course, and, after accidentally jamming my elbow into Sam's head as he tried to help me collect them again, I left the Great Hall with my face as red as a beetroot.


	4. The Potter Boys

Detention was to take place in the Charms classroom, which was one of my favourite rooms by far. It was high up in a tower, overlooking the vast Hogwarts grounds, including the Forbidden Forest and bits of the Black Lake. I had never seen it empty before, without any objects flying through the air; it felt a little odd, like I was intruding.

Clutching my pile of books to my chest, I ambled up to the large oak desk, not quite sure what I was supposed to do. Sitting down on Professor Flitwick's place seemed really inappropriate, but I also couldn't just sit at my usual desk, which left me standing quite awkwardly in the front of the forsaken classroom, contemplating my options. I probably should have asked one of the older prefects for guidance, but admitting that I needed help sort of wasn't my strong suit.

Quite suddenly, the solid oak door swung open with a soft thud and, accompanied by a wave of laughter, a boy came in. He had the definite appearance of someone who had grown a lot in a very short period of time but, nonetheless, his features were handsome. A fading grin was still etched onto his face, even as the heavy door closed behind him with a bang and enveloped the room in complete silence again.

"Oh, um, am I – am I right here?" Albus Potter gave me a puzzled look before he rumpled his black hair uncomfortably. Thick tufts were sticking out in random directions as though he had forgotten to comb this morning. "Is this detention?"

"Yes!" I might have sounded a tat too enthusiastic for confirming that he indeed had found the place where he was to sit out his penalty. I really wasn't good at this yet.

"OK, I wasn't sure…" He trailed off and, instead of talking, decided to tousle his already messy hair again. "Here," he produced a small piece of parchment from his pocket that was scrawled upon with green ink, and then sank onto the nearest seat, pulling out books from his bag. I glanced at the detention slip and back up at Albus, who seemed slightly nervous. Even though I really didn't mean to, I couldn't help staring at him a little bit; he was rumored to look exactly like his father had at 15, just without the famous scar, of course.

"Great!" I practically yelled, again sounding way too cheerful for the occasion. I hadn't meant to yell like that, but the sudden realization that I had been examining Albus like a complete creep, had made me snap out of my stupor momentarily. Luckily, he didn't seem to have noticed and only gave me an odd look as I cleared my throat uncomfortably.

"It, um, says you know what to do?" I indicated the detention slip that had Professor McGonagall's handwriting on it. Strangely, there were no specifics as to _why_ Albus Potter had to spend his Friday evening in detention or what exactly he had to do. Katie would be severely disappointed.

"Um yes. I have to do lines," he said sheepishly and I couldn't help wondering how on earth he had landed himself in detention this early in the semester. He didn't exactly seem like the roguish type, but, of course, I could have been wrong.

Albus had started writing on a fresh piece of parchment, his head bent down so low that his unruly hair hid the words he was scribbling from my view. Now and then, I noticed him glancing up at me, probably checking if I was trying to sneak a peek, but I had settled on one of the desks in the first row, flipping through the latest edition of _From Abavi Sucus to Zythum Zenonis – A collection of potent potions._

With a loud bang, the classroom door suddenly flew open and both Albus and I turned to see a tall, scrawny guy march into the room. Edgar Silverman, the newly appointed Head Boy, was still wearing his entire school uniform with the red tie flapping oddly as he walked towards me so fiercely, I thought he was going to crash into my desk.

"Elizabeth Woodley?"

"Yes?" Quite perplexed, I slid off the table, putting my book aside. I had known Edgar as the Gryffindor Prefect but he had never actually spoken to me before. This was probably the very first time, he had addressed me by my name.

"This looks very well." He let his gaze wander across the room. "You can go now."

"Um, _what_?" I wasn't sure if I had heard correctly. Edgar, however, looked unfazed, almost annoyed by my lack of immediate compliance.

"I said you can go. I'll take over from here."

Besides the strangeness of the situation, I couldn't help but notice that Edgar, as pompous as he might have acted, seemed nervous. His left eyelid twitched and he kept clenching and unclenching his fists rapidly.

"Listen, it's okay. I really don't mind-"

"I am Head Boy!" Edgar cut me off self-importantly, his chest swelling to show off the golden badge that was pinned to his cloak. "And if you don't want to lose your house thirty points you better pack up your things and go."

"Thirty points? Are you kidding me?" Everything about the situation was fishy; from the way Edgar nervously glanced over his shoulder in regular intervals to his slightly sweaty forehead. But I decided I didn't want to risk it. Not only because thirty house points were at stake here, but also because it seemed unwise to pick an argument with the Head Boy only one week into the year.

"Fine. I'm leaving." I gathered my books from the table and, hardly seeing where I was actually going, maneuvered my way through the rows of desks to get to the door. It was not before I had reached the last desk that I suddenly heard a quiet voice, barely louder than a whisper:

"I'm sorry."

I turned my head to see where the voice had come from but Edgar was still lingering in front of the class and Albus was busy with throwing books into his bag. Neither seemed to even realize that I was still there, and I turned away again, shaking my head to myself. Was I hallucinating? I looked up to the ceiling, checking if maybe Peeves was floating above my head but there was no trace of the poltergeist or any other ghost, for that matter.

"Did you need anything else?" Edgar's lofty voice echoed through the room, making me jump.

"Oh, um, no. No. I'll just-" I gestured awkwardly towards the door, almost dropping all of my books in the process, "I'll go."

"You do that," he said with a definite hint of impatience in his voice, watching me as I turned on my heels and finally strode out of the classroom into the dimly lit corridor.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

_Dear parents,_

_I am fine._

I groaned with frustration as I stared at the piece of parchment in front of me. The almost blank page seemed to mock me and for a moment I seriously considered throwing it into the fire that roared next to the leather armchair I was lounging in. I had started the letter about an hour ago but I simply couldn't think of anything to say.

"You could write about how Albus Potter was in detention," Katie suggested lazily as she stretched her arms towards the high ceiling of the common room. "They'll like _that_."

"You are not being very helpful." I smiled without looking up from the parchment in my lap; there was a glistening ink stain where I had pressed the tip of my quill to the paper for too long, contemplating what to write.

"How about _I'm in Ravenclaw, deal with it bitches_."

"Yeah, that's much better."

"Come on!" My best friend gave me a pleading look, her auburn curls completely disheveled from rubbing against the flaky cloth of her chair. "It's a brilliant day outside and we are the only dunces still left inside!"

I sighed, banging my head against the upholstery of my chair. Katie was absolutely right; the castle was positively forsaken; even the ghosts seemed to have abandoned the corridors for once. It seemed more than stupid to sit next to a fireplace, hunched over a letter I didn't even want to write.

"Come on! You need some fresh air!" Katie had practically leapt up, her fists punching the air energetically. Her sequined headband caught the sunlight that streamed in through the window as she grabbed my discarded grey sweater and threw it into my face. "YOLO, Seth. YOLO."

With a smirk, I pulled the loose sweater over my head and stuffed the poor excuse for a letter down the side pocket of my brown leather bag. "You're right."

"I know!" She gave me her most exasperated eye-roll. "As usual." And with these words, my best friend linked her arm through mine and dragged me all the way out of the empty castle.

The sky was almost cloudless except for a few fluffy white tufts that sailed along the edge of the horizon like a herd of sheep. A soft wind rippled the opaque surface of the Black Lake at the edge of which a few people dared to stick in their feet. The vast Hogwarts grounds were bustling with students, their heads turned towards the sky, basking in the bright sunlight that still had some of the summery warmth left; yet, there was a definite crisp in the air that carried the promise of autumn.

"Maybe I'll still catch a tan." Katie rolled onto her back, exposing her milky white skin to the sun. She was even paler than me, but I always thought it looked somehow less _cold_ on her with her reddish-brown curls and bright blue eyes.

"Yeah, or a cold," I said, pointing at the goose bumps on her bare arms. Though the temperature might have been quite pleasant, it wasn't warm enough to don nothing but a thin strappy top.

"Beauty knows no pain, darling."

I shook my head laughing and turned back to the old issue of Witch Weekly that I had found hidden in one of the books in the library. It was thoroughly wrinkled and someone had filled in all the crossword puzzles already, but I still flicked through the pages, reading bits and pieces of the colorfully illustrated articles. The editorial was a big home story on the Potters and their cottage in the Scottish countryside with a large family portrait that showed them smiling and waving.

"OK, don't look now," Katie suddenly whispered close to me, "But I think Albus Potter is watching us."

Rather thickly, I glanced at the 10 year old Albus in the moving photograph, before I had even processed what Katie had just told me. "What?"

"Over there," she muttered, "by the jetty."

I pushed my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose and inconspicuously turned my head towards the lake, where a group of people was lounging at the edge of the wooden cat-walk that led into the dark water. However, before I could get a closer look, there was a loud _splash_, followed by a great amount of laughter and whooping that echoed over the lake, and I whipped my head around.

Like everyone else, I found the source of the ruckus just in time to see James Potter wading out of the Black Lake with his white Henley shirt sticking to his body and a grin plastered across his handsome face, much to the amusement of Freddie Weasley and Augustus Cotton, who could barely stand upright from laughing.

"Would you look at _that_," Katie murmured, biting down absently on the cap of her pen as she watched James ruffle his wet dark brown hair, her eyes glued to the well-defined muscles that were outlined against the soaked fabric that clung to his torso. She wasn't the only one, either; the majority of people stared at the small group by the lake, some with envy, others with definite longing. Achieving such an effect had probably been the whole purpose of this stunt, but everyone seemed glad that – while not in person – they had, at least, been _somehow_ included in whatever made James Potter and his friends laugh.

"I wish he'd do that to _me_," Katie sighed as James had easily picked up a blond girl that had been sitting with his friends, pressing his drenched body to hers while she giggled and screeched with obvious delight. "

I only groaned in response and let myself plop back down onto the plaid blanket to resume my perusal of the tattered issue of Witch Weekly, discarding the page that flashed the Potter family portrait. Unlike Katie, I had had enough James Potter for one day.

* * *

><p>AN: Dear reader, I would LOVE to hear what you think, so feel free to review :)


	5. The Crapula Incident

Warm, orange light flooded the corridor, the shadows of the elaborate stained glass windows drawing intriguing patterns on the stone floor. People didn't seem to notice the swirls and colors that draped the entire hallway, stepping over them carelessly as they moved in tight-knit clusters towards their various dormitories. A tinge of excitement lingered in the air and it seemed to inspire more whispering and giggling than usual.

"Hey Seth!" Someone yelled behind me and I turned my head to find Tarquin Digby jogging along the brilliantly light corridor, dodging a group of chattering girls. With his skin-tight jeans and brightly patterned T-shirt, he looked slightly out of place in the ancient hallway, yet it suited his gangly frame.

"Long time no see," he panted as he caught up with me, "I almost didn't recognize you since you- well, um…"

"Don't look like a boy anymore?" I couldn't help grinning as Tarquin's slender face turned a violent shade of pink, standing out against his light brown hair. "Relax, Quin. I'm just kidding."

"Right," he grinned broadly, pushing the black-framed glasses further up his nose. "How are you? How was your summer?"

"Good." It wasn't entirely true but I didn't feel like elaborating on how I had spent the majority of my holidays hiding from my family. It didn't quite make for a jolly summer story and nobody except for Katie usually understood. "Yours?"

"Great. Listen," he furrowed his brows, which made his glasses shift, "Sam Henderson asked me if you were going to the back-to-school party tonight." He gave me a long, curious look and this time, it was _my_ cheeks that blushed. "I had no idea the two of you were so chummy."

"We're not chummy," I mumbled lamely in an attempt to sound cool. I had successfully avoided Sam ever since my rather awkward exit at dinner yesterday, hoping that he would somehow just stop acting all flirty with me. The simple truth was that flirting with boys was way out of my comfort zone. I wasn't any good at it, which positively mortified me.

"I told him I didn't know," Tarquin shrugged his shoulders, either elegantly bridging my awkwardness or actually not noticing it, "_Are_ you going?"

We had reached the bottom of the sprawling staircase in the entrance hall, stopping at the first step. The heavy wooden doors were opened wide to admit the golden light of the setting sun that poured into the castle, dipping everything into a warm glow. A few students were just now trickling back in from the grounds, just in time to get ready for the biggest official party of the year.

"Well, Katie really wants to."

"Oh, yeah _Katie_," Tarquin's whole body language had changed entirely all of a sudden: His long, thin arms were suddenly restless as though he wasn't sure what to do with them and his ears had turned a deep magenta. "How, um, is _she_?" His voice had cracked at the word '_she'_ and he quickly cleared his throat.

I tried hard not to grin and quickly looked down to my shoes, pretending to examine my laces. Tarquin Digby had had the biggest crush on my best friend since our fourth year, which was so painfully obvious that even _I_ had noticed it. Unfortunately for the poor bloke, Katie was not interested and she didn't exactly try to conceal it.

"Well, you know Katie. She's always good," I paused shortly before I said as casually as possible: "She broke up with John."

"Oh, did she?" He tried hard to sound unaffected by the news but the slight quaver in his voice gave him away. Even when we said our goodbyes, he was still positively beaming at me, his walk fairly springy as he ambled off to the Hufflepuff common room.

* * *

><p>"There you are!" There was a hint of accusation in Katie's voice, as she watched me put down a pile of books on my night stand. She was sitting on my bed quite naturally, her legs crossed and her curls wrapped into a fluffy towel turban, smelling distinctly of coconut. "I already thought you'd been slain by a big-ass book."<p>

I only gave her a sarcastic grin that had to suffice as reply and leaned against the windowsill that divided our beds. It was slightly ajar, letting in a rather crisp breeze that seemed to contradict the glistening light of the setting sun. "I met Tarquin just outside the library."

"Oh _great_. You didn't tell him about John, did you?"

"No, of _course_ not." The moment I said it, I knew that my voice had been far too stiff and sing-song-y to sound even the slightest bit natural. Even someone who knew me less well than Katie would have probably seen right through my feeble attempt at lying.

"You know I can tell you're lying when you start sounding like a bitter Shakespearean king, right?"

"I know," I sighed as I drew my legs up onto the sill to wrap my arms around them. As a matter of fact, the Woodleys were exceptionally gifted liars. Everyone in my family had the literal 'poker-face'; an imperturbable control over their facial muscles as well as voice that made it practically impossible for anybody to call their bluff. It was yet another lovely family trait that somehow eluded me.

"Well, it doesn't really matter now, does it?" Katie jumped up from my bed, sounding immensely chipper all of a sudden. "I'll just have to put up with having him run after me like a lost puppy all year."

"Which is absolutely _terrible_!" I cried out in a mock-dramatic manner, earning a drastic eye-roll from my best friend. "I mean, the _shame_! How can you even _bear_ it?"

"Oh shut up Macbeth!" She had picked up my pillow, throwing it so hard that I lost balance and canted towards the ground; but not without taking Katie down with me.

"You idiot!" She cried as we both collapsed on the hardwood floor in a heap of giggles and snorts, rolling around like complete loons. It was only when I spotted a pair of dirt-caked brown boots in front of me that I finally stopped laughing and looked up.

"I didn't mean to interrupt." The burley frame of Bernice Claville was looming at the foot of my bed, staring down at us in all her broad-shouldered glory. Just like her voice, the expression on her round face was sober, not allowing for any sort of interpretation of her mood. I had never actually seen her smile; she wasn't even smiling when she told a joke, which was probably what put most people off about her. I had been thoroughly scared of her throughout my entire first year, until the day she had saved me from a horde of bullies by throwing her books at them; it had also been the day she had been discovered as a beater for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

"No, of course not. How was practice?" I nodded towards the sapphire blue ensemble that covered her tall body. There were visible streaks of dirt on her cheeks and strands of strawberry blonde hair stuck to her sweaty forehead.

"Good," she deadpanned, "We might finally beat Gryffindor this year. They didn't even have tryouts yet."

"Awesome." I nodded approvingly but the truth was that I actually didn't care all that much about Quidditch. It was alright to watch but I just hated the fuss everyone made about it. This was an impossible thing to say at Hogwarts, of course, where people flying about on broomsticks enjoyed privileges that others could only dream of; so I only protested in silence whenever the team members were exempted from doing homework yet again.

"Um, well," Bernice suddenly looked stiffer than usual, her hands knotted behind her back. "I was just wondering, if, um, well – Ursula said she heard you talking about the party tonight?"

"Yup, we're going," Katie piped up before I even had the chance to protest. Actually I would have preferred slipping into my most comfortable pajamas and cuddling up in bed with a nice cup of tea and one of the new books I had procured from the library; however, I also knew I would eternally feel bad for skipping out on my best friend just because I was a socially awkward, lazy bum with the exciting lifestyle of an 80-year-old cat lady.

"Oh great! I um, I wondered if maybe you would mind if I, like, join you?" Bernice looked as inexpressive as always but the hopeful glimmer in her eyes gave her away. Like Katie and I, she didn't really fit into the social scene at Hogwarts; her sheer size – though advantageous on the Quidditch pitch – and her inability to smile seemed to scare people off. The only person she really hung out with was the other girl in our dormitory room, Ursula Mussegros, who was affiliated with probably every single club in Hogwarts and therefore rarely had time for anything else.

"Of course not! Come with us," I said quickly although I could practically _feel_ Katie moan next to me. It wasn't anything personal, really. After all these years, Katie just still had the ridiculous idea in her head that somehow, _miraculously_, we would suddenly strike up a friendship with the popular crowd and shed our _eternal loser_ images. Showing up with a girl most people only knew as _Bulky Bernie_ probably wasn't that beneficial to her plan.

"Oh _come on_," I groaned at Katie's reproachful look after Bernice had left for the bathroom with an almost happy expression on her face. "Did you see how excited she was?"

"No," Katie growled in response, "because her face always looks the same, Seth."

"Oh rot!" I waved my hand in the air like I was swatting at an invisible fly, deliberately ignoring my friend's argument as I pushed her towards her wardrobe. "Chop chop! The party starts in fifteen minutes!"

"Yeah, _alright_," Katie gave me one of her most dramatic eye-rolls before turning to the colorful assortment of clothes that inhabited her closet. "At least we're going."

* * *

><p>The Great Hall – a construction that was already impressive by itself – looked even more awe-inspiring than usual with a blanket of glittery stars hanging underneath the bewitched roof like they had actually fallen from the sky. The light was soft and the music loud though nobody was dancing; they all seemed to scramble around the elf-run bars that offered snacks and, most importantly, butterbeer.<p>

"That's so cool!" Katie was bouncing excitedly, her glittery blouse reflecting the light like a genuine disco ball. Her thick, curly hair was held in place by a velvet bowtie barrette that matched her bright pink lipstick and the converse sneakers on her feet. She had led the way into the Great Hall with Bernice and me trailing behind a little awkwardly; I wasn't sure where to look and my arms suddenly felt weird just dangling next to my body. What the hell did I usually do with them?

"Right," Katie beamed, "Let's get a drink." She pushed ahead through a group of girls and again, completely overwhelmed by the situation, Bernice and I were left to follow her lead. We weaved clumsily through the chattering mass of students – Bernice accidentally knocking a few people over in the process – until we finally reached one of the busy bar counters.

"Alright!" Katie thrust a bottle of butterbeer into my hand before letting her gaze wander across the room, her light blue eyes shining with anticipation. "Let's do this!"

.

Exactly two hours and twelve minutes; that was the amount of time I had been standing against the exact same stretch of wall, nursing the exact same bottle of butterbeer that had turned disgustingly lukewarm in my hands. By now, people were dancing trance-like to Muggle hip hop, holding their cups and bottles up to the enchanted ceiling like they were constantly toasting each other. In the darkness, the mass seemed to move as one, almost like a giant, multi-colored creature.

"You know, maybe we should just go to bed," Katie sighed as she watched the pulsating crowd in the middle of the Great Hall. She looked thoroughly disappointed by the way the evening had turned out and I couldn't help feeling bad for being such a lame party companion. Bernice wasn't much help either; she hadn't said anything for more than an hour and I wasn't entirely sure that she hadn't fallen asleep with her eyes open.

"No!" I cried out firmly, "We're not going home. We're going dancing!"

Katie blinked, looking fairly startled by my suggestion. "Seth," she finally said with a small smile on her lips, "you don't have to do this. You hate dancing."

She was right; I did hate dancing. It was one of the things I was absolutely rubbish at and I hated being rubbish. I liked to be in control of what I was doing; however, for Katie, I was prepared to let go for once.

"I'm serious, let's go." I grabbed my best friend's arm determinedly before whirring around. "Bernice, what do you say?"

Bernice didn't even stir but just sat on her chair, staring into space with quite glassy eyes.

"Right. Just the two of us, then." Ignoring her protests, I pulled Katie with me until we had reached the edge of the throbbing cluster of people that was now shoving against us as they winded their bodies. The air felt hotter and more humid all of a sudden and the beats vibrated in my ears, dulling everything else around me. Katie had begun to move quite expertly and I nodded my shoulders along to the rhythm with as much tact as I could muster.

Next to us, a group of Hufflepuff boys with ties around their heads had started dancing along; one of them held out two brightly orange colored drinks, willing us to take them. He grinned and showed us his thumbs-up as Katie yelled a _thank you_ over the music, toasting him with her cup. She looked positively radiant as she raised her eyebrows at me, her mouth forming the words _Oh my god_. We had never before been supplied with drinks by random guys; that usually only happened to girls like Demeter Notte and her friends.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you," a voice suddenly said right next to my ear and I turned a little too abruptly, spilling gooey orange liquid all over someone's lovely white button-down shirt.

"Oh shit! I'm _so_ –" I actually wanted to say _sorry_, but the shock of finding Albus Potter's face looming so close to mine, put me off completely. Even in the dim light I could see that his eyes were indeed green like his father's.

"No problem," he said with a smile, his cheeks blushing slightly, "It's good you didn't drink it, it's got Crapula in it."

"What?" I looked at the cup with the remaining drink in my hand and took a careful sniff; the treacherous smell of honey mingled with a definite acidic note left no doubt; the drink was indeed interspersed with the highly intoxicating Crapula potion.

"Do you mean to say," Katie asked with wide eyes, "that those boys wanted to drug us?"

Albus ran a hand through his untidy, black hair. "Well, yeah."

"_Oh my god_," Katie just stared at her drink in awe like she had never seen such a wondrous thing. She didn't look exactly _happy_ about the fact that someone had tried to drug us, but she definitely didn't look appropriately repulsed.

"Thanks for the warning," I said to Albus as I took Katie's glass out of her hand. She didn't protest, but a deep frown appeared on her face as she stared at the drinks that were emitting thin streams of smoke by now.

"Yeah, no problem." Albus grinned sheepishly; he lifted his hand to his hair but suddenly stopped in midair, dropping it awkwardly again. "Um, your name is Elizabeth, right?"

"Seth," I supplied quickly and, after feeling Katie's elbow jabbing into my ribs, I added, "and this is my friend Katie."

"Hi," she gushed, giving Albus a brilliant smile that I had rarely seen on her before, "I'm Katie."

"Um, yeah," Albus grinned, "so I've heard."

Katie didn't seem to notice her mistake and simply nodded enthusiastically. I wasn't sure how much butterbeer she had had already, but it definitely must have been more than one bottle.

"So, um," Albus smiled slightly embarrassed, "You're in Ravenclaw, aren't you?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" The moment I had opened my mouth, someone had turned up the music and I had to properly scream my answer. A booming voice proclaimed that McGonagall had left to go to bed and a loud whooping echoed through the Hall, momentarily drowning the thick beats.

"Books!" Albus yelled back, leaning in a little bit closer. The gooey stain on his shirt gave off a sour smell by now that was biting in my nose. "You always carry around loads of books so I just guessed."

"Yeah, Seth's a total nerd!" Katie suddenly cried so loudly that the people around us began to snicker. She was swaying oddly to the music and her face had gone a shocking shade of pink. It looked like she was literally glowing; but not in a healthy way. "And she used to look like a boy!" A sputter of giggles that was most unnatural for Katie erupted from her mouth, leaving a dim smile on her face.

Something definitely wasn't right here.

"Katie, look at me," I spoke firmly, feeling a sudden uneasiness crawl up my spine. Her eyes couldn't focus on me and she began to giggle wildly again.

"You look funny." Her fingers had started kneading my cheeks as a curious expression spread across her face. Instinctively, I looked down to the poisoned drink I had taken from her just minutes ago; at the edge of the glass was a faint pink stain.

_Oh no. _This wasn't good.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello there awesome reader! If you read this, you proabbly made it through this chapter and I would absolutely LOVE to hear what you think! Reviews make my day so feel free to drop me a line or two :) Thank you for reading!**


	6. The Disadvantages of being a Nerd

Heavy raindrops were drumming against the high windows, filling the hospital wing with soft tapping sounds. The sky was a gloomy shade of grey that was only occasionally lit by dramatic bolts of lightning. It looked like the end of the world outside, but I had always thought that boisterous weather suited Hogwarts well; it made the castle a hundred times cosier and I had the perfect excuse for staying in and reading.

"Hermione Weasley has passed another Elf Labour Regulation Act. It's the biggest one in magical history."

"Oh stop it!" Katie pleaded as she tried to snatch the issue of the Daily Prophet out of my hands without success. She looked much better already than yesterday night; her lips had lost their orange tinge and the dim grin had faded as well after a while. Only her motor functions were still a little slow, which showed in her sloth-like attempts to rid me of my paper.

"OK. What do you want to hear then?" I put away the Daily Prophet and began to rummage through the stack of wrinkly Witch Weekly copies – the only sort of entertainment the Hogwarts hospital wing offered – that were piled on a small coffee table. I had read almost all of them, spending the night next to Katie's bed, alternating between dozing off uncomfortably and reading articles on Celestina Warbeck's 100th birthday.

"I think I'm ready to hear about yesterday night." Katie looked at me quite seriously but I could detect a hint of fear in her light blue eyes. She couldn't remember anything after taking a sip of the Crapula infused drink last night.

"Well, it wasn't that bad, really," I began carefully after checking again that we were quite alone in the room. Apparently, no one else had been tricked into drinking the intoxication potion.

"Seth."

"No, really! You just giggled a lot and called me a nerd and then Professor Longbottom came and brought you up here." It was the truth, though not exactly _all_ of it. It had taken quite some effort, to get Katie to leave the party; she had been exuberant, throwing everyone we passed kisses and waving like she was the queen herself.

"I know you're lying," Katie sighed, pulling the fluffy white blanket up to her chin as she watched Madame Pomfrey, the matron, bustling around the ward, fluffing up cushions, "and I really appreciate it."

I only smiled in response, drawing my legs up to my chest. My back felt sore from spending the whole night on this bare wooden chair and my butt had fallen asleep about an hour ago. Madame Pomfrey, who had tried to send me away several times already, only shook her head at me as I caught her eye across the room. She hadn't been too happy with me when I had insisted on staying up here with Katie but in the end, though grudgingly, she had given in.

"So, what did I miss? Did you meet Sam?" Katie inquired quietly after the matron had brought us two cups of steaming hot tea.

"Oh," I bit my lip before smiling somewhat crookedly, "well, um, _no_ – since he was busy snogging Felicity Bolder in a dark corner." Sam's attention had shifted fairly quickly when I hadn't thrown myself into his arms immediately. I can't say that it really bothered me, but the fact that Sam had lost interest in me so easily wasn't exactly flattering either.

"That _bloody_ prick!" Katie had abandoned her quiet voice, crying out indignantly. "What an idiot! You are _way_ better than Felicity Bolder! She always smells of cabbage; that's bloody weird!"

"Thanks, that's such a comfort." I took a sip of Madame Pomfrey's tea before cradling the warm cup in my hands. A snuggly feeling immediately spread through my body and the tension in my shoulders began to recede. For a moment, it was pure bliss.

"Well, who needs _Sam Henderson_ when you have Albus Potter, right?"

Katie grinned broadly as I stared at her a little dumbfounded. Of all the things she could have remembered, it had to be Albus Potter, of course. I wasn't sure how, but her brain seemed to work in odd ways.

"What are you talking about?" I whispered, feeling Madame Pomfrey's reproachful stare on my back. "He's a year younger than me."

Of all the arguments I could have come up with, this was certainly the lamest.

"Oh please," Katie raised her eyebrows slowly, "You don't turn sixteen before next week. And Albus is hot. Who cares if he is in fifth."

I had started shaking my head so vigorously at the word '_hot'_ that bits of tea slopped over the edge of my cup and stained my white sweater. Katie was being ridiculous; I had absolutely no interest in Albus Potter, whatsoever. It hadn't even occurred to me to look at him _that_ way. And certainly he hadn't either.

"Madame Pomfrey?" The door to the hospital ward had opened with a blast and a small group of people in muddied clothes entered, looking exhausted. Their clothes all were completely soaked and they seemed to be shaking heavily as they moved further into the room, leaving great, brown puddles of water in their wake.

"What is going on here?" The matron had appeared immediately, taking in the scene with a wary look on her usually friendly round face. "What happened?"

"Quidditch try-outs," a thin girl with a bloody cut on her chin panted out of breath. Only now, as I followed Madame Pomfrey's quizzical gaze, I noticed that two of them looked like they actually couldn't stay upright by themselves, swaying oddly as they leaned on their companions' shoulders.

"Quick, get them over here," the matron ordered briskly, leading them to a section in the back. Katie and I craned our necks a little to follow the events but within seconds, Madame Pomfrey had strode back across the room, drawing the curtain next to Katie's bed so that our view was blocked by a baby-blue piece of cloth.

"Quidditch. In this weather. _Unbelievable_," she muttered angrily under her breath, stalking off again to tend to her new patients.

Katie gave me a long meaningful look before she whispered "_Gryffindor_". I only nodded in response, having seen the hints of scarlet fabric showing through the layers of mud that clung to the uniforms. It really wasn't the right weather for flying, let alone leaving the castle. The rain pelted even harder against the windows by now and a proper storm whipped the trees so violently, it looked like they were about to be unearthed. None of the other team captains would have held try-outs under such horrible conditions but, of course, James Potter didn't care. He had a reputation for working the Gryffindor team quite hard, which most people thought was admirably fierce and brave. Never mind that he was a reckless, self-important git who gave a Boggart's arse about other people's safety.

* * *

><p>As September progressed, it seemed, the last traces of summer had vanished as well. A permanent cold wind swirled up the orange and gold leaves that had gathered underneath the towering trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forrest and the promise of rain loomed in the dark clouds that hung low over Hogwarts.<p>

I wrapped my woolly scarf a little tighter around my neck as a particularly cold gust of wind swept along the edge of the forest, positively howling. Next to me, Adina Singer and Morgana Evenberg shivered, huddling up with their teeth clattering and their bare knees quivering. They hadn't even bothered to put on a sweater over their uniforms, wearing nothing but thin blouses and their shortened uniform skirts, which earned them quite disapproving glances from Bernice, who was standing behind them.

"Alright!" Professor Hagrid had reappeared from his hut, carrying a wooden crate that was large enough to hold a small dragon, a broad grin lighting up his bearded face. "I got ya a real treat for today. Thought you might like 'em."

A few people exchanged nervous looks; many of them had not yet overcome the disastrous confrontation with the baby Pogrebin last year that had attempted to bite off Fergus Seelie's arm. Hagrid was quite notorious for taking a liking to all sorts of dangerous creatures and bringing them to class; however, no one could argue that his lessons weren't exciting.

"I've got enough for all of you!" He proclaimed as he set the box down in front of his feet. "Who can tell me what they are?"

Together with a few others, I moved in on the box, peering over its edge: Nestled in a layer of straw were tiny lizard-like creatures that shimmered in a striking silver-green colour.

"Mokes," I whispered awestruck without taking my eyes off the thimble-sized reptiles that now craned their heads upwards quite curiously. I had read about them before but, like Hagrid had said, they were extremely rare and usually hard to spot.

"Exactly! Five points to Ravenclaw!" Hagrid cried out enthusiastically. "Clever little creatures, they are. Tricky to find since they can shrink themselves on the spot."

By now, the rest of the class had dared to approach the Mokes as well and – after realising that they weren't in immediate danger – longed heartily into the crate when Hagrid told us to pair up and get hold of one. This was harder than it sounded, however, since they kept shrinking and growing rapidly again, making it almost impossible to seize them as they dived into the straw.

"Wanna pair up?" Bernice appeared next to me just as I surfaced from the crate, clutching a struggling Moke in my hand that had already shrunken to minimum size. I could feel its tiny talons scraping my palm relentlessly.

"Sure," I panted, dropping the reluctant Moke into the bucket Bernice was holding up. In its understandable struggle for freedom, the creature had left quite a few cuts on the inside of my hand, some of them already gushing blood.

"How is Katie?"

"Good," I replied as I wiped my hand on my black tights for lack of a proper tissue. "She can leave the hospital wing tonight."

Bernice nodded, prodding the Moke with the tip of her wand as though trying to get it to grow again. At the moment it was so miniscule that it was hard to draw even a fairly accurate sketch of its features. Many people around us seemed to have the same problem, squinting aimless into their buckets and sticking in their wands.

"Take one o' these!" Hagrid shouted over the usual chatter, producing a good dozen of magnifying glasses from one of the countless pockets of his bulging cloak. It simplified the whole task immensely.

"So the poisoning wasn't too bad?"

"No, thank god." I sighed as I watched the Moke frantically skirting the inside of the metal bucket. According to Madame Pomfrey, Katie had been quite lucky; apparently there had been a lot of severe cases of Crapula poisoning last year, where people, in a spree of unreasonable exhilaration, had attempted to jump off towers or almost drowned themselves in the Black Lake. The sip Katie had taken from her drink had only contained a marginal amount of the potion and, when I had visited her this morning before breakfast, she had already seemed quite like her usual quirky self again, perusing a copy of the latest Marie-Claire issue.

"Lesson's over! Just put your Mokes back in the crate!" Hagrid hadn't even finished his sentence, when half of the class was already on their feet, making a great deal of noise as they emptied their buckets rather carelessly, sending their Mokes skidding down over the metal edges. It had started drizzling by now and everyone was eager to get back up to the castle, where it was warm and dry.

"Thank you, Seth," Hagrid boomed as I began to collect the buckets that were strewn haphazardly across the lawn. I actually didn't mind staying behind a little; for the last 40 minutes, Bernice had been elaborating on how Ravenclaw was going to beat Hufflepuff in the traditional kick-off friendly in October, which would have been fine, really, if I hadn't heard it for the umpteenth time already. Since Katie hadn't been there, I had somehow ended up eating my meals with Bernice and Rufina Pinkerton, the other Ravenclaw Beater, who took it upon them to educate me on various Quidditch tactics. And, while I liked Bernice, I just needed a little break from hearing about blagging and Bludger Backbeats.

By the time I had collected all the buckets, the Hogwarts grounds were positively forsaken. Tiny drops of rain spattered against my face as I climbed the slight upwards slope towards the castle, almost slipping twice on wet patches of grass. The sound of thunder that had been growling in the distance, seemed menacingly close by now and I picked up speed as the rain drops grew considerably larger.

"Seth!" Someone suddenly called behind me and I turned around to find Albus Potter jogging towards me, strands of damp black hair clinging to his forehead. "Care of Magical Creatures?"

"Yup," I gave him a smile as he caught up, falling into step with me. We hadn't talked since the party on Saturday and, honestly, I hadn't expected us too. After all, we weren't friends. In fact we barely knew each other. Nonetheless, there was a certain familiarity about Albus that made it surprisingly easy to talk to him. "You?"

"Herbology. Greenhouse three," he retorted, indicating roughly the direction of the Hogwarts greenhouses. "How is your friend? I hope she feels better?"

"Oh, yeah," I threw my arm out a little awkwardly in an attempt to make a nonchalant gesture, but instead caused half of my books to fall down onto the rain sodden ground. They landed on the grass with a squelch and I couldn't help the tiny groan that escaped my mouth.

"Wait, let me help you." Albus made to crouch down but I was quicker.

"It's fine," I sighed as I scooped my soggy books up with one swift movement, "that happens to me all of the time, really."

"Maybe you should consider not carrying around so many books?" He gave me quite an adorable crooked smile as we continued to walk the last few meters to the castle. "I've never seen you without any."

"Oh really? How often have you actually seen me?"

It was meant as a joke but, to my surprise, Albus' cheeks suddenly turned slightly pink and his gaze shifted awkwardly towards the floor. I got the uneasy feeling that I had said something wrong, but when Albus looked up at me again, smiling unperturbed as usual, I discarded the thought immediately.

"Are you going to Hogsmeade this Saturday?"

"I think so, yes," I said truthfully albeit leaving out that it was actually my birthday on Saturday and that Katie had planned a birthday pub crawl, which was totally not going to happen, of course.

"Cool." He nodded, his hands stuffed firmly into the pockets of his dark grey uniform trousers. "So – um – maybe I see you there?"

"Um, yes, maybe," I mimicked his nodding gesture, feeling weirdly awkward all of a sudden. I couldn't put my finger on what exactly it was that felt odd about the situation but it was definitely there, and it lingered even after Albus had left to join his friends for lunch in the Great Hall.

* * *

><p>Torrential rain lashed against the tall windows that had fogged up from the hot wafts of steam, curling lazily above the half-dozen cauldrons. My hair too had absorbed the thick humidity that hung in the classroom air, frizzing it so that it looked like a wheat blonde halo around my head. I didn't care much however, seeing that the Calming Draught I had carefully stirred for the last half-hour, had turned the exact shade of ink blue that was described as ideal result in my Advanced Potions Book. Of all subjects, Potions was probably my favourite; unlike most things in this world, it was guided by sheer rules of logic and, hence, wonderfully predictable. That was, if you got the instructions right, of course.<p>

"Alright now; time is up!" Professor Slughorn's voice carried over the hissing and clinking that filled the classroom. "Bottle up a sample of your work and bring it to my desk, please!"

The reaction was immediate; chairs scraped on the stone floor and the volume rose threefold as everyone hastened to join the beeline for the teacher's desk. It was the last lesson for today and most people were probably eager to get to dinner.

"Ah, another Outstanding, I suppose," Slughorn said amicably as he examined the small flask I had just handed in. He watched the thick blue liquid swirl idly as he surveyed it against the candlelight on his desk, when suddenly he knitted his eyebrows musingly. "Miss Woodley, would you mind staying behind a minute? There is something I need to discuss with you."

For I moment I was too perplexed to respond. Judging by the sudden serious note in Slughorn's voice it almost sounded as though I was in trouble. I had never been in trouble before and the prospect positively mortified me. Also, the whispered '_uuuhs'_ behind my back didn't help much either.

"Oh, OK. Sure," I finally managed to say, before trailing somewhat awkwardly to the side of the teacher's desk. The few people that were still queuing to submit their samples, gave me appraising looks but I simply turned away, pretending to study the tall Georgian windows. Considering that the Potions classroom traditionally was in the dungeons of the castle, the windows were indeed a strange sight; the classroom was somewhere underground, yet the windows made it look like there was a vast sky just outside the room.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Slughorn's deep voice boomed lazily as soon as the last pair of students had cleared out. He stroked his enormous walrus moustache and I couldn't help thinking that it looked a little like a very furry, very chubby caterpillar. "Bewitched them myself, of course. Reflect the weather outside, just like the ceiling in the Great Hall."

He had gotten up from his chair and walked around the desk, one hand twirling the tips of his moustache as he studied me for a moment. "Miss Woodley, you are quite a natural at Potions. Of course, you are aware of that, I dare say?" His booming laughter echoed from the walls and I felt myself relax a little; maybe I wasn't in trouble after all.

"I guess I am quite OK, Sir," I replied meekly, still not quite sure where this conversation was headed. I knew I was good at Potions, but this fact alone didn't seem to justify the talk I was just having.

"OK?" Slughorn yelled loudly, amusement crossing his plump face as he looked at me quite intently. "Miss Woodley, I have, in fact, a favour to ask you. I have a student – a particular favourite of mine, I have to admit – who, well, does not perform as well as he ought to in Potions, I'm afraid." He paused for a moment, apparently contemplating how to continue before clearing his throat. "You see, James is a smart boy but there are, well," he chuckled jovially, "_other_ things on his mind. I don't blame him, mind you."

He laughed again and I suddenly felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. I had finally realised what this conversation was about; or rather _who_ it was about. "Sir-"

"I know, I know," Slughorn cut off my attempt to wriggle out of this sticky situation, "tutoring is not part of your Prefect duties and it is a most unusual favour to ask. But I assure you, I would not do so if it wasn't for my complete trust in your profound skills, Miss Woodley."

I hesitated for a second, not sure how to respond. There was no doubt that this _James,_ Slughorn was talking about, was James Potter. After all, it was commonly known that he had a soft spot for the Potter kids; the famous offspring of the saviour of the entire wizarding world.

"But, isn't James Potter one year above me, Sir? Shouldn't he be tutored by another seventh year?" I asked rather hopelessly, feeling that a trifle like this would not really impress Professor Slughorn. He merely chuckled again, holding his great belly that protruded underneath his emerald green robes.

"Oh no, Miss Woodley. Like I said, I have absolute faith in you. And besides, I need someone, who puts _academics_ fist, if you know what I mean." He winked quite obviously and I had to refrain from groaning loudly. Whatever '_putting academics first'_ meant, I was sure that it couldn't be anything good.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello wonderful readers who made it to the end of this extra long chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! As always, I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions :) Thank you for reading!**


	7. The Awkward Hug Incident

_A/N: I am sorry this chapter took me so long to upload. I promise I will resume my weekly uploads as of now!__ Enjoy._

* * *

><p>Katie stalled in the middle of the narrow path, barely allowing the group of overly excited third years behind her to scuttle to a halt. They gave her quite reproachful glares as they flitted past but she didn't even notice as she rummaged frantically through her blue sequined bag.<p>

"Kat, I told you I have enough for both of us," I said seriously, tugging on her sleeve to edge her on a little. We were blocking the entire path, but apparently my best friend didn't care.

"No! It's your birthday, Seth. I am _not_ going to let you pay for everything."

"But that's ridiculous," I groaned while trying to dodge a couple of small boys that ran past us, evidently racing each other to get to Hogsmeade. "It's my parents' money anyway."

Katie only huffed in response, now digging even fiercer into her bag on the search for her wallet. Her cheeks had turned a glowing shade of pink and her auburn curls had been messed up by the strong wind, giving her the slight appearance of a particularly mad professor.

"OK, now stop violating your bag and look at me," I said as seriously as possible while keeping my hair from whipping into my face. The thin parka failed miserably at keeping me warm and I quite regretted not having taken my snug woolly hat. "I will pay today. My birthday, my rules."

Katie made to open her mouth in protest but before she could say anything, she was cut off by a wildly waving Tarquin Digby, who was running towards us down the sloping path.

"Hey girls!" He came to a halt in front of us, looking thoroughly windswept but with a broad grin on his slender face, "Whazz happenin?" He croaked feebly and I couldn't help cringing inwardly at his awkwardness that only ever surfaced when he was talking to Katie.

"What?" She said rudely, the annoyance practically oozing from her voice.

"Um, where are you going?" I wasn't sure if he only pretended to not have noticed Katie's obvious lack of enthusiasm or if he actually hadn't picked up on her less than friendly demeanour, but Tarquin was still grinning at her as though she was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen.

"Strip club," Katie shrugged and I punched her shoulder reproachfully. Sure, it had been a rather stupid question but he clearly wasn't in full command of his mental capacity.

"Actually, we were just heading to Hogsmeade. Do you want to join us?" This time it was Katie who jabbed her elbow into my ribs, hissing under her breath. I wasn't sure what exactly she had planned for today but it certainly hadn't involved Tarquin Digby.

"Yeah, sure!" He said happily, once again apparently oblivious to Katie's theatrical eye rolls and overly loud groans, as he made to follow us down the narrow path.

"This _thing_," Katie whispered, flourishing her index finger oddly in front of my face, "I mean, you inviting random strangers to join us, has to stop. Now."

"Random strangers?" I raised my eyebrows in a mock-serious gesture and then linked my arm with hers. She complied, albeit slightly reluctantly, and let me pull her along after Tarquin, who was basically skipping down the narrow path, humming a cheerful melody.

* * *

><p>The rain had set in again and cleared the usually busy streets of Hogsmeade. Only a few stray shoppers braved the downpour, holding their umbrellas close in front of their faces to keep them from being blown away. Naturally, the cold wind had driven everyone into the Three Broomsticks, which appeared to be busting at the seams. Almost every Hogwarts student who had ventured to leave the castle, seemed to be in here, shoving and pushing to get to the bar.<p>

"This isn't the way I planned it," Katie moaned before giving Tarquin a nasty sidelong glance. It was hardly his fault that we were sitting in a remote corner, crammed around a table that would easily fit into a doll's house, but she glared at him nonetheless. Tarquin, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the lack of space between the two of them; his hand was resting remarkably close to hers and I had an odd feeling that he was going to take it.

"I'll get something to drink!" Realising that I really did not want to whiteness this scene, I got up from my wobbly chair and left the table as quickly as possible. The crowd had swallowed me instantly and I suddenly felt like I was swimming against a strong current, constantly being pushed to the side as I tried to make my way to the bar. It had taken quite some elbowing skills to finally reach the oak counter and I clutched the wooden bar immediately to prevent being carried off into the crowd again.

"Three Butterbeers, please!" I shouted over the impressive noise level, still clinging to the counter like my life depended on it. I couldn't tell if anyone behind the bar had heard me; the two barmaids seemed completely overwhelmed by the sheer amount of orders as they ran from one end of the long bar to the other.

"Hey," someone suddenly breathed into my ear and I instinctively jumped to the side, letting out a small scream. Albus Potter smiled at me sheepishly, a slightly bemused expression on his face.

"Sorry," he said, ruffling the black hair on the back of his head, "did I scare you?"

"No. I mean, yes. A little, maybe." I stammered clumsily, my left arm still clutching the counter like a lifeboat.

Albus grinned apologetically as he leaned against the bar. There was a certain glint to his eyes and I guessed that he had had more than one Butterbeer already. "I saw you fighting your way through the crowd. Quite impressive."

"Yeah," I shrugged laughing, "I've got a mean elbow."

Albus didn't laugh; instead I found him staring quite obviously at my chest, his eyebrows furrowed with concentration. It was not like there was a lot to see; nonetheless, it wasn't a very gentlemanly thing to do.

"It's your birthday?" He said quite unexpectedly, looking up into my face again.

Right. I had forgotten about that. Albus had not been staring at my chest but at the unproportionally large badge Katie had stuck to my cropped jumper this morning. It was a fluorescent pink colour and flashed the words '_Super Seth's Super Sweet Sixteen_'.

"You should have said something! Happy birthday!" Albus grinned a little too brightly again and suddenly I found myself enveloped in a hearty hug. Over his shoulder, I noticed some people in the closer vicinity casting curious glances in our direction and I felt my cheeks blush.

"Oh, um, thank you," I stammered lamely after Albus had released me and, not exactly sure how I was supposed to act, I gave him an awkward pat on his arm.

_Great_. That wasn't weird at all.

"Here is your Butterbeer," a busty waitress slammed down three bottles on the counter, looking extraordinarily bored as she watched me fumble with my wallet, scattering a couple of Sickles.

"Thank you." I took all three bottles at once, balancing them quite shakily in my arms. There was a big chance I was going to smash at least one of them but I didn't care; people around us were still staring blatantly and I just wanted to get away.

"Should I help you?" Albus offered, already extending his hands to take the bottles out of my arms but I shook my head quickly.

"No, it's fine. Really. I should – I should get back to my gang, you know?" Even as I had said it, I realised that I sounded like a middle-class wannabe gangster rapper. Who the hell called their friends a _gang_? I was really on form today.

"Okay, um," Albus looked at me weirdly, probably deciding if I was crazy or just odd, and I simply made a tiny waving gesture before turning on the spot and diving back into the crowd.

* * *

><p>"Why didn't you ask him to join us?" Katie plopped down onto her bed, eyeing me with a mixture of excitement and indignity. She was eating chocolate frogs out of the massive box she had given me for my birthday while watching me rummage through my wardrobe.<p>

"I thought I wasn't allowed to invite random strangers," I said as I surfaced from the mess that was my closet; its untidy state would have probably given my grandmother a heart attack if she had ever seen it.

"That doesn't apply to Albus Potter," Katie replied, dropping the frog she had just picked up, back into the box again. "Maybe he'll ask you out soon. We'll be invited to parties and everything; oh god, I need new clothes."

"OK, Queen Mum, how about you help me look for my copy of _The Advanced Potioneer_." I was slightly stressed, having tried to locate the book for the last fifteen minutes while Katie was indulging into unrealistic scenarios. She didn't seem to want to pay attention to such mundane things as school books, however, and simply stretched cat-like on her bed.

"Where do you think he will take you on your first date?"

I couldn't help the frustrated groan that escaped my mouth. "Nowhere. Katie, I'm serious," I gave her a long, exasperated look, trying to somehow convey that I felt extremely uncomfortable talking about this topic. I didn't believe that Albus Potter fancied me – most of all after what had happened at the Three Broomsticks earlier – and I didn't want to, either. "I just want to find my damn book, OK?"

Maybe it was the slightly pathetic whiney tone in my voice that did the trick; Katie huffed somewhat discontented and, stuffing an entire chocolate frog into her mouth, she said "_Unger ge beg_".

"Oh, thanks." I had bent down to find a rather thick book lying carelessly underneath my bed. It must have fallen off my nightstand, which was overflowing with books and pieces of paper and parchment. I picked it up and replaced it carefully on the already impressive pile I had assembled on the top of the old-fashioned wooden chest at the foot of my bed.

"OK," I sighed less than enthusiastically, "I think I should go."

"Wait, what?" Katie sat up so quickly it looked like she had been on the receiving end of a stinging hex. "You are not going like that?!"

Bewildered, I looked down on me, somehow expecting to find a large coffee stain on my cropped jumper, but it was perfectly white and clean.

"Seth, seriously," Katie had gotten up from her bed and crawled over mine to get to my closet, "skinny jeans and a jumper may be fine for Hogsmeade, but you are going to meet with _James Potter_, so you'll need to step up your game, if you know what I mean."

"No, actually I don't," I spoke to Katie's butt, which was the only part of her that was not immersed in the depths of my closet. She had started throwing around tops and dresses, apparently not hearing any of my attempts to protest, until she finally emerged again, holding up my pair of skinny leather-look trousers and a frilly top I could not remember buying for the life of me.

"No," I simply said, shaking my head fiercely, "just _no_. I am _not_ going to change clothes."

"Don't be so stubborn," Katie pleaded but I was still shaking my head so vigorously that my top-knot had loosened and was bobbing oddly on top of my head.

"Fine," she huffed, throwing the clothes she had picked out back into my wardrobe, "but at least do your hair, OK?"

"No," I insisted firmly, quite aware that I sounded like a three-year-old, "it's bad enough that I have to spend the evening of my birthday with James Potter. I am not going to dress up for that git. _Never_."

Katie rolled her eyes in that annoying older-sisterly manner and plopped down onto my bed as though she owned it. "Seriously, Seth – you don't even know James."

"Oh," I said heatedly, feeling the colour rise to my face, "I _do_ know him, believe me." The image of a brown-haired boy, laughing gleefully as I crawled on the floor, collecting pens and paper that lay strewn across the corridor, surfaced in front of my eyes.

"Just because he tripped you up that one time doesn't mean you actually know him," Katie said calmly, albeit with an air of exasperation in her voice, "That was five years ago. You can't still be mad about this."

"I'm not!" I said a little too quickly and practically hurled the neatly stacked pile of books into my bag.

"Yes you are." Katie spoke unbearably patiently, like she was talking to a raging toddler, who was about to have a screaming-fit in the toy section of Walmart. "You hold grudges like only a Woodley can."

For a moment I was too perplex to reply and only stared at my best friend, my mouth hanging open in disbelieve. "You take that back!"

Katie only shook her head, her arms placed firmly on her hips. She looked intimidating, even in her pink unicorn pyjamas. "No. You know it's true."

Again, I was reduced to staring at her, failing to come up with a plausible counter argument. Luckily the arrival of Bernice and Ursula saved me from having to give an answer. "I have to go," I said curtly and, after picking up my bag, I left the dormitory.

"Don't be mad, okay?" I could hear Katie's voice shouting after me as I paced down the stairs. "Remember that I love you! And don't be grudgy, okay?"

"That's not even a real word!" I yelled back and then pushed open the door to the bustling Ravenclaw Common room.

* * *

><p>It was slightly uncanny to sit in the candlelit Potions classroom all by myself, with only the light, steady tapping of rain on the windows to keep me company. Somewhere in the closer distance I could hear the rattling of chains that sounded much like the Bloody Baron was haunting the dungeons again and I felt a slight uneasiness at the thought of the terrifying ghost. After more than five years at Hogwarts, I was not particularly scared of the resident ghosts anymore but I also did not need them to bother me when I was quite alone in a dimly lit classroom.<p>

I glanced at my watch for what felt like the hundredth time, tracing the second hand that seemed to drag itself across the dial. It had been almost an hour already that I had been waiting for James Potter, yet there was no sign of him. The fire I had lit underneath my cauldron was dying slowly and the ingredients, which I had prepared and lain out neatly on a white cloth, were untouched. The whole setup looked a little like a scorned dinner invitation and I suddenly felt immensely stupid for coming early and preparing everything; even more so, now that it had become apparent that James Potter had stood me up.

Nonetheless, I waited another ten minutes before finally deciding that it was time to pack up and leave the forsaken Potions classroom behind. I had no idea what I was going to tell Professor Slughorn if he asked me about tonight, but for now, I was somehow glad that James Potter had not shown up, mostly because I had been slightly nervous. I would never admit this to anyone, of course, but the prospect of spending my evening alone with Hogwarts' most eligible bachelor had greatly intimidated me.

I had reached the first floor, still deeply in thoughts, when suddenly there was a bang, followed by heaps of giggles and I stopped dead in my tracks. A few hushed whispers floated along the dimly lit corridor, interspersed with fits of snorting laughter, and there a black, multi-limbed mass stumbled around the closest corner. On first sight, I thought that some spidery creature from the forest had strayed into the castle but as it moved closer, I realised that the swaying spider was actually a tightly knit group of scarcely dressed girls. Their high heels clacked loudly on the marble floor as they proceeded along the corridor, striking up the chorus of the latest Miley Cyrus song.

"Where did you say the party was?" I heard one of the girls shout over the chant, who was immediately shushed by her friends.

"_You_ be quiet!" She protested even louder with a definite slur in her squeaky voice, "I'm sure _she_," at that word, she had stretched out her arm sloppily, pointing directly at me, "is going to the party too, right?"

"No. She is not," drawled a quite familiar voice before I even had the chance to open my mouth. Vala entangled herself from the group, her hands perched on her hips as she surveyed me through squinting eyes. Her dark brown hair was pin-straight and fell almost to her waist, covering parts of the cherry red barely-there dress that clung to her body like a second skin.

"Hello, cousin," she smiled drily at me. It was quite an odd situation; mostly because we usually ignored each other when we were at school. We weren't in the same houses and, obviously, our social circles couldn't be further apart.

"Hi," I replied somewhat lamely and, after an uncomfortable pause, added "Well, see you around, I guess." I had already turned halfway towards the stairs, when suddenly a different, perkier voice piped up.

"Aren't you the girl who was hugging Albus Potter in the Three Broomsticks today?" Demeter Notte flipped back her long blonde tresses as she frowned at me. The other girls in the group immediately broke out in curious whispers, except for Vala, who simply rolled her eyes with an air of annoyance.

"Yes, um, listen," I gestured awkwardly towards the stairs, "I really should go. I have to-"

"Have we met?" Demeter squinted a little unflatteringly, twirling a strand of hair around her index finger. The image of her screaming into my face in the girls' bathroom came to my mind but I simply shook my head.

"Um, no." I cast another longing glance towards the staircase, having a vague idea about what was going to happen next. "We haven't."

Demeter blinked, her head tilted to the side as though she was trying to solve a difficult Arithmancy problem. "Are you shagging Albus?"

For a moment it felt like someone had muted the entire scene. I had not expected this. At all. What kind of question was that? Who on earth asked other people if they were '_shagging'_ someone, and with such casualness?

"Can we just go?" Vala had stomped her foot on the floor, not unlike a grumpy toddler, her hands knotted tightly in front of her chest. "I'm freezing."

"Oh don't be such a cry-baby," Demeter moaned before turning back to me, her eyes moving rapidly from my buckled Chelsea boots to the messy, slightly askew knot atop my head as thought she was trying to take a mental picture of my entire appearance. Then, with a sudden indifference on her perfectly made-up face, she shrugged, linked arms with Vala and another girl, and they strode past me as though they had never noticed me in the first place.

I exhaled deeply, not exactly sure what had just happened. Somewhere in the distance the girls had resumed their wobbly interpretation of Wrecking Ball, which reverberated from the stone walls, and I quickly began to climb the stairs before they could change their minds and come back.

When I entered the Ravenclaw common room, it took me a while to find Katie, sitting hunched over a thick book and a heap of metallic pieces that looked a lot like they belonged to some electrical device. Even though the room was fairly packed, she had managed to secure a spot next to one of the idly crackling fireplaces. Just like the number of dorm rooms that had multiplied with every new year, the castle had adapted to the greater number of students by expanding the common rooms to entire areas, allowing for more secluded niches and cosy spots.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" I plopped into the overly stuffed armchair next to Katie's and let my bag drop carelessly to the floor. She looked up startled, apparently not having expected me to be back so early.

"What are you doing here already?" She asked curiously, pulling on the hem of her slouchy knitted jumper; just above the collar I could see the pink unicorn patterned cloth of her pyjama top protruding.

"Oh, well," I sighed, pulling up my legs and resting my head on top of my knees, "I told Potter to piss off and then threw my books at him."

Katie's eyes had widened with shock, her mouth hanging open a little as she stared at me with such horror that I had to focus hard on maintaining a straight face. "You – you are joking, right? Tell me you are joking!"

"Of course," I grinned at my best friend, "but I should have done it if he had bothered shown up."

"He didn't show up?" Katie's facial expression changed from anxious to enraged within seconds. "That _git_! Who does he think he is?"

I laughed, shaking my head slightly. "Whatever. Let's just forget about James Potter."

Katie nodded but did not say anything for a while. She only stared at the shiny metal pieces in her lap, prodding them with her fingers, before finally looking up at me again.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "for what I said before."

"Don't be," I assured her quickly, "you're right. I might tend to hold grudges a little too long sometimes."

"_A little_?" Katie had raised her eyebrows but she was grinning broadly. "You still haven't forgiven me for losing your fluffy, glittery teal quill in our first year."

"Because it was super awesome!" I protested in mock-indignation. "I've never found another one like it."

"Yeah, because you would still use it!" Katie chortled, the book and the metal pieces, which I had identified to be mobile phone parts, sliding from her lap unnoticed.

"I _totally_ would!" I insisted firmly, yet unable to keep the laughter out of my voice. It somehow felt like all the tension and uneasiness that had bothered me just a few minutes ago had simply been washed away.

"OK, well that's good to know," Katie said cheerfully and pulled a neatly wrapped package from underneath her jumper, holding it out to me. "Happy birthday, Seth."

Curiously, I took the thin, long parcel and, as I opened the lid, I found a bright turquoise quill, glittering in the dim light of the common room. It looked illegally fluffy, even as it lay embedded in the black velvet cloth.

"I do expect you to use it," Katie said with a smirk. "_Everyday_."

I grinned back at my best friend, feeling a comfortable warmth permeating throughout my entire body. "Oh, trust me, I will."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello lovely reader! Thank you for reading this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it and will come back for more ****J****. I would love to hear your thoughts, wishes, complaints, etc. so please feel free to comment or review! I also want to thank everyone who has taken the time to review my story so far! I really really appreciate your kind words and your comments make my day! You are awesome! Thank you!**


	8. An Educated Meltdown

The sun was blazing from the clear, pale blue sky above Hogwarts like it had to make up for the last couple of rainy days. It was so strong that I had to squint all the way down to the Quidditch pitch, barely able to see what was going on around me. Nonetheless, the October air was crisp and I shivered slightly in my long-sleeved jersey as I stopped next to Katie. She looked quite uncomfortable as well, her teeth clattering softly and her hands hidden in the sleeves of her jersey that bore the same, small Hogwarts emblem in the top right corner as mine.

"It's too early for physical activity," she whined just loudly enough so that Professor Lupin, who had marched onto the pitch with a horde of unmanned broomsticks following him obediently, would not hear her. Today, his ever-changing hair was ice blue, almost white, and despite the long sleeves of his vest, it was possible to discern his muscular arms.

"That's my Jack Frost daydreams come true right there," Katie murmured and quickly adjusted her sequined hairband, which gleamed in the sunlight. She wasn't the only one, either; at the sight of Professor Lupin, most of the good dozen girls that were huddled at the side-lines of the field, began to pull on their unflatteringly wide Hogwarts jerseys and vigorously fluffed up their hair. Their behaviour was quite understandable; Ted Lupin, a student teacher who had been entrusted with the unloved but compulsory subject of Physical Education, was barely older than us and undeniably handsome.

"Alright ladies!" He smiled dazzlingly, the broomsticks now hovering next to him like a swarm of bees. "Since we are blessed with great weather this morning, I thought a bit of flying practice would be fun." He sounded chipper but at the sight of a dozen unenthusiastic faces, his expression faltered a little. "I promise, it is going to be fun, OK? Now everybody grab a broom."

Almost immediately, the usual rush on the pile of broomsticks broke out, in which everyone struggled to get hold of one that was not yet dented or broken or a falling hazard. Katie and I hung back deliberately, watching Demeter Notte – who was particularly ruthless – jamming her elbow into Morgana Evenberg's stomach when Lupin wasn't looking.

"What are you going to tell Slughorn?" Katie asked quietly as the crowd around the broomsticks dispersed gradually and we were left to choose from the saddest bunch of brooms Hogwarts could offer.

"I don't know yet," I sighed, examining the pitiful excuse for a broomstick I had just picked up. The brushwood was rather thin and brittle and the handle, which was patched up with flaky pieces of Spellotape, had definitely seen better times as well. "Maybe he doesn't ask."

"You still have to say something."

"I know," I groaned as we returned to the side-lines, joining everybody else. I knew that Katie was right; I needed to tell Professor Slughorn that Potter had not shown up for the scheduled potions tutorial on Saturday but despite the fact that I did not care if James Potter got into trouble, I was not particularly keen on ratting him out either. It was quite the dilemma.

"OK, listen up, girls!" Lupin shouted loudly, silencing the chatting crowd, "We are going to play _Capture the Flag_, so I need two teams." He made a kind of ploughing motion with his hands, dividing the group in the middle. There were a few unhappy protests of those who had been separated from their friends but Lupin ignored the complaints easily, continuing with his instructions. "You know the rules. The team that finds and captures the flag first, wins. No foul play! That means no hexing, no hitting, no spitting – yes, I am looking at you, Maude – and absolutely no hair pulling."

"Um, Ted?" Demeter said in a sickly sweet voice, "I mean, _Professor Lupin_," she giggled and looked around at her equally giggling girlfriends, "could you help me with my broomstick? I never know how to mount it properly."

"_Jesus_," Katie moaned and rolled her eyes at the sight of Demeter clinging to Lupin as he held down the broom for her to mount. It looked almost comical but, of course, no one dared to laugh and I quickly turned away, focusing instead on Hagrid's hut, where thick clouds of smoke were billowing from the chimney.

"Have you heard from Albus?" Katie asked in a would-be casual voice, playing with a loose twig on her broom. I knew she had been dying to ask this question, yet she pretended as though it was absolutely random.

"Nope," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. It wasn't entirely true; I had actually caught a glimpse of him in the corridor yesterday, but, upon seeing me, he had abruptly changed direction and walked away without a word. I couldn't even blame him. The image of me lamely patting his arm was quite vivid in my mind and it somehow seemed to get more embarrassing the more I thought about it.

"Well," Katie sighed as nonchalantly as possible, giving me a small smile "whatever, right?"

"Yes," I returned her smile thankfully, "whatever."

* * *

><p>The glitter particles that stuck to my teal quill glittered excitingly as I turned it in my hand absentmindedly. The Potions classroom was, as usual, filled with intriguing smoke but, having just returned from an emergency Prefect meeting, I had nothing to do but to stare at Katie's slowly bubbling potion.<p>

"Seriously?" She raised her eyebrows at me, her face hidden behind thin, pinkish wafts of smoke that smelled strongly of leather-bound books and dewy grass.

"Yes," I replied under my breath to avoid being overheard, "but only the Prefects are supposed to know, so…"

"Sure." Katie nodded enthusiastically. The news that a batch of dried Caleria roots and a flask with Gravida essence had been stolen from Slughorn's personal cabinet, had demanded her full attention. Strictly speaking, the Prefect regulation prohibited the repetition of any of the topics that were discussed in our meetings – especially those that were as delicate as this – however, I knew I could trust Katie to not blab.

"But that means," she said in a hushed tone, stopping briefly as Professor Slughorn passed our table, "that means someone is trying to brew a pregnancy test?"

"Probably," I confirmed, watching her stew the bubbling substance in her cauldron that now had taken on a beautiful mother-of-pearl sheen.

"Oh my god," Katie whispered, barely able to keep the excitement out of her voice, "Who do you think it is?" She looked around the room expectantly as though she was hoping the possibly pregnant thief would somehow reveal herself to her.

"Honestly, I don't even want to know," I continued in a low voice, careful to not attract Slughorn's attention, "McGonagall was livid. She instructed all the Prefects to keep their eyes and ears open and to report to her immediately if they hear anything."

"Time is up!" Slughorn suddenly announced in his booming voice, interrupting our whispered conversation. "You know the drill: Fill a vial with a sample of your potion and bring it to my desk!"

I watched Katie ladle some of the fragrant potion into a small glass bottle and corking it carefully. "Have you decided what you are going to do?" She nodded towards Slughorn's ample form, striding up and down in the front. "I mean, because of –"

"No," I sighed, pushing around the leftover rose thorns next to Katie's cauldron. My plan had been to just duck out of the class and hope that Slughorn would never mention James Potter again, but I seemed to be out of luck; even as Katie and I had prepared to leave, I bumped into something very soft, just to find a beaming Professor Slughorn blocking my only escape route.

"Miss Banks," he addressed Katie good-naturedly, "May I borrow Miss Woodley for a moment? I promise it won't take too long."

"Um, sure." Katie gave me a wide-eyed look before turning on the spot and filing out behind the other students. Slughorn waited until the room was completely empty before he finally cleared his throat and gave me a benevolent smile.

"Miss Woodley," he began seriously and for a second I still nursed the tiny flicker of hope that he was just going to tell me I had to make up for this lesson, which I had missed because of the Prefect meeting. "I just wanted to ask how the tutoring lesson went."

I shifted uncomfortably, trying to somehow delay my answer. I had not planned on telling on James Potter but I was surely not going to lie for him, either. I supposed that he usually got away with quite a lot, being surrounded by people who were eager to take the Bludger for him in the hopes of attracting his attention. It was quite pathetic and I had decided that I was not going to take any part in this.

"Well-" I started bravely just to be immediately interrupted by Slughorn again.

"Of course, James told me how well you two got along."

I blinked dumbfounded, only staring at the plump professor for a few seconds. "What?" I finally blurted out, hardly able to keep the surprise out of my voice.

"Oh yes," Slughorn chortled, "it seems the two of you hit it off, haven't you?"

My brain was wiped blank. Either Slughorn had had one too many of Rosmerta's oak matured mead or – and this was much more likely – James Potter had lied. He had lied blatantly about attending a tutoring lesson he had never even shown up to and, what was worse, had recklessly dragged me into this as well. Did he just expect me – a random girl he had never even talked to – to blindly go along with this? I couldn't do this; I was _not_ going to lie for James Potter.

"Professor," I said a little too quickly, feeling the nerves in my body tingle, "About that tutoring lesson-"

"Yes, yes. I greatly appreciate your effort, Miss Woodley. Of course, I _knew_ you would be just perfect for the job," Slughorn beamed at me again, "Have you arranged to meet again yet?"

"Oh, um, no we-" I stammered helplessly just to be interrupted once again.

"Would Saturday morning suit you? Nine o' clock after breakfast?"

"Nine o'clock?" I repeated lamely, struggling to regain composure. This whole situation was getting out of hand.

"Excellent!" Slughorn, who had obviously mistaken my lack of protest as some kind of approval, had pulled a scruffy diary and a swatted quill from his cloak pocket and began to scribble something in miniscule writing. "I will let James know to meet you here. Now, don't let me keep you any longer, Miss Woodley," he said, stuffing the book back into his cloak, "I see you tomorrow."

For a moment, I could not move; I only stood there, watching Slughorn walk back to his desk to prepare for his next class. This could not be happening. I needed to say something; to clarify.

"Sir!"

"Yes, my dear?" He had turned around, looking at me with a soft expression on his chubby face. I only stared at him for a moment, feeling my determination falter. I couldn't do it after all.

"Oh, um, nothing. Sorry. I'll just – I'll go." I turned on the spot and began to speed-walk towards the door, heat rising to my face. I might have inherited my family's tendency to hold grudges but I surely lacked the Woodley bluntness; I wasn't blunt or brave at all, I was a pathetic coward.

* * *

><p>The heap of scrambled eggs on my plate looked positively disgusting after I had pushed it around for a good half-hour, unable to take even a small bite. Around me, the Great Hall was bustling with people and the clinking of dishes rose into the coffee-scented air. Usually, Saturday mornings were my absolute favourites at Hogwarts but today all I really wanted to do was to crawl back into my bed, pull the blanket over my head and stay there until the day was over.<p>

"OK that's enough." Katie had reached out, taking away my scrambled eggs so that my fork stabbed the wooden table instead. "Has your mother never told you to not play with your food?"

I looked up at my best friend, my fork still hovering pointlessly above the table. "Are you kidding me? I wasn't even allowed to move my lips too much during meals. My grandmother called it _useless_ _fidgeting_. You try chewing without moving your lips!"

"OK, let's forget about your weirdo family and focus on your foul mood," Katie said business like, snatching the fork out of my hand. "Just do yourself a favour and don't overthink; just this once, please."

"I don't overthink," I protested immediately, feeling profoundly misunderstood, "I just don't want to spend half of my Saturday with stinking Potter, that's all." It was the truth; I really did not want to see James Potter; most of all because I had no idea how I was supposed to act. Did I confront him with the lie he had told to Slughorn? Did I just pretend that nothing had happened? And what if Slughorn realised I had been lying about that tutoring lesson?

"Seth, I can literally hear your synapses humming," Katie interrupted my train of thoughts, staring at me with raised eyebrows. "Just stop it, OK?"

"Fine," I mumbled listlessly, grabbing my enormous book-filled cotton bag from the floor, "I have to go anyway. In case I don't return I have probably been expelled."

"OK," Katie sang cheerfully, buttering a fresh scone before waving her knife in a farewell gesture, "have fun!"

"Sure," I grumbled unenthusiastically and then followed a group of tiny boys out of the Great Hall. I still had not made up my mind about what I was going to say to James Potter – or _if_ I was going to say anything – but this lie I had slithered into, gave me quite an uneasy feeling, making my stomach ache.

Lost in thoughts, I turned the corner of the daylight flooded corridor, not expecting to meet anyone on my way down to the dungeons on a Saturday morning. However, after I had walked a few steps, a girly giggle suddenly echoed from the high walls, mingled with a squelching sound, and as I looked up to see where the noises had come from, I realised that I had just walked in on a vigorously snogging couple: Tightly wrapped as though melted together, Albus Potter was leaning against one of the tall Gothic windows, holding a petite brunette in his arms. They both stared at me like startled deer, obviously not having expected to be disturbed in this secluded spot, and I suddenly felt like an intruder.

"Oh, um, sorry – I – I didn't - ," I began to stammer helplessly, racking my brain for the right words to say, but they just wouldn't come.

"Seth," Albus finally managed to say in an odd voice, detangling himself a little from the girl he had just been snogging a few seconds ago. The entire situation felt absurd and uncomfortable; why on earth did I have to walk in on this?

"You know each other?" The girl asked perkily and gave me a bright smile. She was very pretty with her olive complexion and smooth brown hair that contrasted well with her cream-coloured dress. Somehow I couldn't help feeling a little shabby in my loose black T-shirt, which I had tucked sloppily into my high waisted skinny jeans this morning.

"Um, yes, we have met. _Briefly_," I answered, feeling idiotic all of a sudden, "I'll just – I'll go." I gestured vaguely down the corridor behind me, trying to muster a smile. I wasn't sure if it had worked, however, since my facial muscles felt oddly frozen. This was really uncomfortable.

"Seth," Albus started again in a tone that made me feel quite pathetic, though I wasn't sure why. Probably because I was still standing there lamely, staring at them like a creep.

"Well, I guess I see you around," I said in an unnaturally random voice, "or, well, _not_. You know, whatever." I shrugged unnecessarily and gave them the most nonchalant wave I could produce, before turning on the spot and quickly walking away. I was fully aware that I was walking into the opposite direction of where I should be headed, yet I did not slow down until I had reached a forsaken side corridor, which I sometimes used as a shortcut to get to Ancient Runes.

My cheeks were glowing as I climbed down a narrow staircase, feeling the cool air from the dungeons tingling on my hot skin. I wasn't entirely sure why I had run off like this, most of all into the wrong direction. I was already late for the tutoring lesson and now I had to take a different, longer route to the potions classroom, which would delay me even further.

I began to jog down one of the torch-lit corridors, feeling the strap of my heavy bag cutting unpleasantly into my shoulder. My awkward encounter with Albus had somehow caught me off guard and I had completely forgotten to worry about James and tutoring and Slughorn for a moment. Now, however, as I was nearing the potions classroom, I felt the tension crawling back up my spine like a spindly beetle. If there was one thing I absolutely did not need right now, it was definitely James Potter.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered to myself as I pushed open the classroom door; it was pitch black and, by the looks of it, completely empty.

The universe really had a rubbish sense of humour.

* * *

><p>So he had done it again. <em>Prick<em>. Seriously, how could someone actually be that inconsiderate? Against my better judgement, I had waited for almost half an hour for Potter to show up – _again_ – only to feel like a complete idiot for actually thinking he might. He was probably laughing his arse off with his super-cool friends at this very moment, joking about that stupid 6th year that had once again dragged ten pounds worth of books down to the dungeons through the entire castle.

"Hey, Seth!" Bernice's strong hand clapped my shoulder and for a moment I thought I would collapse from the sheer force. She had streamed out of the Great Hall with a couple of other Ravenclaw players, some of them wearing parts of their Quidditch attire. "Where did _you_ come from?"

"Oh, um, library," I lied to avoid lengthy explanations; unfortunately my face didn't want to play along and turned pink immediately. "Where are you headed?" I asked quickly, trying to steer the conversation as far away from me as possible. "Quidditch practice?"

Bernice snorted, along with a few others. "We wish. The pitch has been booked for the entire day." She exchanged knowing looks with her teammates. "Potter's got some special treatment again, of course."

"Wait, what?" I stopped walking immediately, causing Bernice to bump into me. "Did you say _Potter_?"

"Um, yes?" Bernice looked perplexed. "Why?"

My mind failed to register her question; instead, I felt a soft ping somewhere close to my temples and something seemed to snap. "I'm sorry, there is something I have to do," I mumbled quickly as I turned on the spot, leaving Bernice and her confused-looking friends behind. They probably thought I was a nutcase but at that moment I could not care less.

As I left the castle, my thoughts were whirring, white-hot anger burning in my stomach. Who the hell did Potter think he was? Did he think this was funny? Determinedly, I marched down towards the Quidditch pitch, ignoring the unpleasant feeling of soggy earth seeping into my shoes through the cut-out bits in my Chelsea boots. I had no idea what I was doing, neither did I have a plan; yet I couldn't stop. The dislike I felt for Potter seemed to blank out every ounce of reason or caution in my body, propelling me forwards so that I suddenly found myself right at the edge of the pitch and before I could stop myself, I had opened my mouth:

"Oi, Potter!" I yelled as I marched directly towards the small group of people in the middle of the field. Most of them were staring at me by now, but for the first time in my life, I actually didn't care.

"Uh-oh," Freddie Weasley said with a smirk on his face, putting a hand on James' shoulder, "looks like you forgot to call someone after last night, mate."

James shook his head, though with an undeniably amused expression on his face. "I swear, I don't even know who that is."

"Well, you wouldn't, wouldn't you?" I heard myself speak but my voice sounded foreign and far away, as though I was listening to an entirely different person.

Potter simply smiled wryly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Yeah, listen. Whoever you are, this is going way too far. You're not the first one who has some weird obsession with me so just go find the others and, I don't know, start a club or something."

Everyone around me began to laugh and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. The anger I felt at Potter's smug arrogance, however, easily overpowered the feeling of humiliation that was pushing against the surface.

"You think I'm _stalking_ you?" I asked in disbelieve, ignoring the continued sniggering around me.

"_Nooo_," Freddie said very slowly and in a tone that suggested he was talking to a mentally unstable toddler, "You are his _girlfriend_, right?" Everyone exploded with laughter again and I felt angry tears stinging in the corners of my eyes.

I could not start to cry. Not now. Not in front of James Potter.

Pulling myself together, I straightened up and looked at Potter with as much defiance as I could muster. "Here!" I had slid my cotton bag that was bursting with books, from my shoulder and thrust it directly into his hands. He gasped, probably from the unexpected impact of the ten-pound-bag, but grabbed it nonetheless, apparently too nonplussed to react any other way. The others had taken a few steps backwards, probably thinking I was going to run amok.

"Knock yourself out," I said, unexpectedly aloof, "and tell Professor Slughorn to find you another idiot to help you with potions."

A sliver of comprehension seemed to appear on Potter's face, but I didn't even care anymore. Holding my head high, I turned around and walked off the pitch, trying not to listen to the hail of catcalls and teasing '_meows'_ that followed me even after I had left the stadium.

As soon as I was sure to be out of sight, I broke into a light jog, which immediatelly turned into a genuine run. What the hell had got into me? This wasn't me. At all. Yet I had just publicly humiliated myself in front of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. By tonight I was probably going to be the laughingstock of the entire school.

Out of breath and weak-kneed, I finally collapsed behind greenhouse four, an abundance of thoughts chasing each other in my head. At least I could be sure now that I would never have to lie for James Potter again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Soooooh, what did you think? I am eternally grateful for every comment, word, emoji, or letter that you leave me! AND thanks to all the wonderful people who have taken the time to review my last chapter. You rock!**


	9. A Pocket full of Secrets

Darkness. Complete darkness enveloped me as I lay there motionlessly, staring at the ceiling. I didn't know for how long I had been lying in this position or even what time it was. It could have been the brightest day outside, yet no light penetrated the thick, blue cloth that surrounded me. The darkness was of such density, that even after a while my eyes did not manage to adjust to the lack of light.

"OK, I have to ask," Katie said next to me and I did not need to look to know that she had rolled to the side, her eyes fixating my left temple, "what made you do it?"

I shrugged as I continued my staring contest with the ceiling. "I don't know. Everything." Images were chasing each other in my mind: Albus, snogging that girl and looking at me like I was a pitiable stray puppy, me sitting in that empty potions classroom like the biggest dork, James and Freddie, laughing like arrogant pricks. "Hearing that Potter is casually flying around on a broomstick while I have been waiting like an idiot for him to show up – I guess I was just mad at myself for being such a gullible dork. And then I just-"

"You cracked like Gretchen Wieners," Katie supplied, still staring at me with her head propped up on her elbow.

"Who is Gretchen Wieners?" I wasn't sure if I was supposed to know this girl, but Katie simply sighed with exasperation, which was an infallible sign that she was referencing a movie I didn't know.

"The point is, that you stood up for yourself, which is great!"

I simply groaned in response, not really seeing the greatness in yelling at the 'Chosen One's' son in front of the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team. In the aftermath of my proper meltdown, I felt actually quite humiliated.

"You could have been more subtle, I suppose, but you stood your ground," Katie continued, apparently determined to cheer me up. "You know, maybe you've got more Woodley in you than you know."

"God, I hope not," I sighed, hoping that my family would never ever get wind of this. Despite the fact that they were definitely not part of the Potter Family fan club, they would not approve of such a crude form of communication, most of all in public.

Silence fell for a while and my thoughts began to circle again, producing the same images I had been seeing for the last couple of hours. Katie had assured me that my little meltdown would not qualify for school-wide gossip, yet I already dreaded the end of the weekend.

"You know that you have to leave your bed eventually?" Katie suddenly said into the darkness as though she had been reading my mind. "Or at least stop staring at that ceiling."

* * *

><p>Monday had come, faster than usual, and so I found myself trudging along in Katie's wake as we headed up to the third floor for a double period of Ancient Runes. I hadn't been very keen on going to the Great Hall for breakfast this morning, expecting pointing fingers and gloating laughter, but, much to my relief, there had been nothing of that sort. People, as usual, were positively unaware of my existence; a fact that I had never been more thankful for.<p>

Hence, for a glorious hour I was lulled into a sense of security that my moment of self-control-loss had actually remained uncovered by the gossip-loving student population of Hogwarts; that was, until I accidentally picked up snippets of conversation from a couple of Hufflepuffs that occupied the table in front of Katie and me.

"Have you heard about that crazy girl assaulting James Potter on Saturday?" One of them asked in the middle of a rather complicated translation task and I looked up with a jerk, abandoning the cluster of runes I had just been deciphering.

"Of course," a girl with a thick black braid, tumbling down her back, answered in a tone that suggested scandal, "I heard that she was some creepy stalker, claiming James was her boyfriend."

"How pathetic," the boy next to her laughed like he had never heard of anything that pitiable, "what's her name? Maybe I know her."

My insides clenched as I held my breath, readying myself for the unavoidable humiliation I was about to face. However, to my great astonishment, the girl simply shook her head. "No one knows who she was. Could have been anyone, really."

"Anyone who's got a serious obsession with James Potter, which is basically _everyone_," her strawberry blonde neighbour added in a whisper, as Professor Theta drew nearer to their table. "Mind you, _I_ wouldn't say no to James, either." Both girls broke out in heaps of giggles, which earned them a dismissive headshake from the boy, who immediately turned back to his translation work.

Katie, who had apparently been eavesdropping as well, gave me a soft nudge. I hadn't quite been spared the disgrace of being the school scandal – the stalker girl who _assaulted_ James Potter, whatever that was supposed to mean – but at least the fact that Potter had never even bothered to remember my name, had saved me from facing school-wide humiliation. Who would have thought that James Potter would be good for something after all.

* * *

><p>"I told you it wouldn't be that bad!" Katie slipped her arm through mine, her smile wide as we ambled down the broad corridor together. The October sun was low on the horizon, hitting the stained-glass windows at an angle that made them glow like gems.<p>

"Yeah," I muttered quietly. Though glad that I had not yet been connected to Hogwarts' latest rumour, I couldn't help thinking that there was something fishy about this whole situation. Snippets of gossip concerning my meltdown – which had somehow mutated to a proper scandal by making it sound as though I had ripped my clothes off right there on the Quidditch pitch and literally thrown myself at Potter – had been floating around school all day and the fact that people were _still_ puzzling over the identity of James Potter's latest stalker, seemed almost too good to be true.

It would not be too hard to actually find out. In fact, it was positively easy: Besides the rather obvious fact that a good half dozen people – who incidentally all lived in the same castle as I did – had witnessed the scene, Potter simply had to ask Slughorn about my name, or – if he ever considered to take a look at the books I had thrust at him – he would find my name scribbled into the margins of the first pages. Hence, if all laws of gossip were still intact at Hogwarts, my name should have been on everyone's lips, and the fact that it wasn't, suggested that something wasn't right.

"Would you please just relax?" Katie squeezed my arm. "What happened to fierce, Voldemort-may-care Seth from the other day?"

I shook my head laughing, about to answer, when suddenly something further down the corridor caught my eye and in a wave of blind panic, I grabbed Katie's arm and pulled her behind the ample statue of Leander the Literate.

"Ouch!" Katie complained, completely aghast, looking at me like I had lost my mind. "What the hell are you-"

"Shush!" I peeped carefully around Leander's large belly but backtracked again immediately. "James and Albus," I explained in a barely audible whisper, "they are talking to each other. Why are they talking to each other?"

Katie raised her eyebrows at me, probably contemplating the possibility of me having an aneurism. "Um, well, I guess because they are brothers?"

I exhaled deeply and pressed my body against the wall, feeling stupid and helpless. Was this how my last two years at Hogwarts were going to be? Ducking and hiding whenever I ran across Albus or James?

"Ouch, you're hurting me!" Katie cried out, pulling her arm out of my grasp, which apparently had been a little too firm. "Jesus, Seth!"

"I'm sorry. Can you look if they are still there?"

Katie rolled her eyes but complied, stretching just enough to see past the statue. If the boys had suddenly decided to look around, they would have probably spotted a tuft of her auburn curls protruding behind Leander's belly.

"And?" I prompted after a few seconds, trying to peep through the small gap between the wall and the statue's bottom without success.

"They are still there," Katie commented in a low voice, "James has just gotten something out of his pocket. It looks like old parchment. He gives it to Albus. That's weird. What do you think it is?"

"Maybe some old homework?" I shrugged, trying once again to find a gap between the statue and the wall. "Hey, does James look like he has any books with him?"

Katie turned back to me, her eyebrows once again raised with disbelieve. "Are you serious? What kind of question is that?" She whispered, giving me a look that suggested I had gone mental.

Her reaction was quite understandable; my question had been completely out of context and sufficiently weird. However, this had bothered me for quite a while now: Not long after I had marched off the Quidditch pitch last Saturday, I had realised that I had just left some of my favourite Potions books in the care of James Potter and I had no idea how to get them back.

"Quick, someone's coming!" Katie hissed as a group of people had turned the corner of the corridor, having a full view of us half-cowering behind Leander's ample bottom.

"That's quite an interesting sculpture style," I said clumsily, pretending to be very interested in the folds of Leander's toga, "with all the – um – the lines and, um –"

"The alignment of the, uh, material," Katie chipped in, imitating my poor performance that earned us weird looks from the passing group. However, it seemed to have been enough for them to not question our odd behaviour. As soon as they had walked by, Katie and I exhaled with relief; no matter what the purpose might be, lurking behind overly large statues to spy on people usually never looked too good.

* * *

><p>"<em>Calfacto<em>." I tapped my wand softly against the brim of my mug and the water within began to bubble for a second before thin wafts of steam rose snakelike into the air. Quite pleased with my own spell-work, I plopped a tea bag into the now heated water and stuffed a large biscuit into my mouth, before balancing the mug on a stack of books, carefully making my way to a quiet niche of the common room.

"What are you doing?" Katie watched me, clumsily trying to set down my books without spilling scolding hot tea all over them, her arms folded in front of her chest. "Don't tell me you are skipping dinner again."

"I'm not hungry," I replied, though it sounded more like '_I nog hungee_' as I was still clenching the large biscuit with my teeth.

Katie gave me one of her most exasperated eye-rolls. "You know that you could just as well run into James during breakfast or lunch, right? This is ridiculous."

"Actually, it's not," I countered, as I set up my books on the table, "sixth and seventh years have completely different schedules so we rarely have lunch or breakfast together. At dinner, however, the entire school shows up." Trying to minimize the chances of running into James Potter, I had given this matter quite some thought and decided that being cautious for a few more days until everything had blown over, couldn't hurt.

"Fine," Katie sighed reluctantly, "I'll go alone. But this is the last time. Tarquin always tries to chat me up when you're not around and it's annoying."

"OK," I agreed, nipping on my still steaming tea, "and don't be too harsh to the poor boy." I grinned at her, earning another massive eye-roll.

After Katie had left, the common room was empty to a point that was almost eerie. Nobody usually missed dinner if they didn't have to. It was the biggest social event of the day; a chance to finally ditch the school uniforms and to flirt and interact with people from different houses. I didn't mind the quiet, yet it was strange that the loudest sound was the gentle crackling of the fireplaces.

I took a generous sip of my tea and then longed into my pocket, pulling out a neatly folded piece of parchment, tied together with an emerald bow. Archimedes had delivered my parents' letter this morning but, never opening my mail at the table, where basically anybody could read it, I had not yet gotten around to have a look at it.

_"__Dear Elizabeth_," my mother's slim, loopy handwriting sprawled across the page, "_Thank you for your letter. Your father and I are glad to hear that you are well. Everything is fine at home although the weather in Cornwall is horrid. I spent the last week in London to prepare for the Conservatory Gala. Incidentally, I met Charlize and Justus Engelstein and their charming son Asher (I don't know if you remember him; you used to play together as children); he studies Magical Law at the University of Beaufort. He is such a handsome, well-mannered young man."_

As a matter of fact, I _did_ remember Asher Engelstein quite well; mostly because of the mortifying, rather sloppy kiss he had planted on my mouth behind my mother's peony bushes about three years ago. He hadn't been so well-mannered back then.

"_Your father and I will be attending the Quidditch event at Hogwarts at the end of October. Your grandparents might accompany us as well. We are looking forward to seeing you then!"_

I groaned inwardly at the information in the last two lines; it wasn't unusual for the students' families and alumni to join the Quidditch Kick-off celebrations, yet I had a hard time picturing my parents enjoying the event. The entire day was usually messy and loud, involving impromptu dancing and barbeques; not exactly what my family usually considered to be fun.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the writhing flames in the fireplace until they began to look like actual shapes and faces. I wasn't sure how I felt about my parents' visit; while the fact that I was in Ravenclaw was hardly a secret, it had been easy to avoid the topic when I was at home. Here at Hogwarts, however, it was an entirely different story.

Discarding the letter, I reached for my tea and the book on Shield Charms, which I had borrowed from the library for my _Defence Against the Dark Arts_ homework, and began to browse the yellowed pages for useful information on shield radii and protective properties. I was halfway through a passage on negative influences affecting shield strength, when, all of a sudden, the silence in the common room was broken by a strange gulping noise, followed by a miserable moan that sounded much like a dog's. I sat up straight, looking around for the source of the noise but from my secluded spot, I could hardly see anything at all.

As the wail sounded again, I got up as quietly as possible and moved further into the room, careful not to make too much noise. Whatever had gotten into the common room didn't sound too happy and I was not sure I wanted to run into it. The nooks and corners that have been added over the years, provided ample hiding space and made it fairly difficult to spot anyone who did not want to be spotted.

Once again, a howl pierced the silence. However, this time, it didn't sound menacing but somehow desperate, and, as I turned the corner, I saw a slouching figure, sitting in one of the armchairs, their face buried in their hands as they sobbed convulsively into their palms.

For a moment I was paralysed, unable to think of anything to say or do. I had never seen Sam Henderson like this; in fact, I had never seen _anyone_ like this. He was crying so much that he was shaking, occasional wails mingling with the sound of his sobbing, and I took an instinctive step backwards. I couldn't deal with this. Growing up in a family where public displays of emotions were frowned upon, I was absolutely useless when it came to comforting people.

Very slowly, I turned around and began to walk away again, hoping that he would not look up in time to see me. I probably would have gotten away unnoticed, but, unfortunately, I hadn't seen the random, misplaced coffee table that was in my way, and ran straight into it, banging my knee rather noisily.

"Seth?" I stopped dead in my tracks, resisting the urge to groan. I had messed up my chance to walk away without looking like a git, and so, taking a deep breath, I turned around to face Sam.

"Hey!" I waved, feeling rather awkward when he only stared back at me with red, puffy eyes. "Are you – are you alright?" I had no idea why I had asked that. He was crying like a maniac; obviously he was _not_ alright. "Can I – can I help you?"

Sam continued to stare at me for a moment, his cheeks completely wet and snot dripping from his nose. Then he finally shook his head. "No one can help me," he said in a strangled voice and his face screwed up as he resolved into tears again.

I could only stand there like an idiot, feeling helpless and uncomfortable at the same time. I was probably the most useless person to stumble across Sam in this situation.

"Should I – should I get someone? I could-" I stammered, fidgeting with the cuffs of my slouchy jumper. However, when Sam did not react and continued to sob into his hands, I finally sat down in the armchair next to his and began to pad his arm awkwardly. He looked up, a strange expression on his face, studying me like he was seeing me for the first time.

"I screwed up," he gulped suddenly and began to shake his head slightly, "I really screwed up."

"I – I'm sure it's not that bad," I replied, but he only shook his head more vigorously.

"No, it is. It is bad." He paused and gave me a weird, long look. Then, he suddenly dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out two small vials; one of them contained a clear liquid, the other one a flaky powder.

I stared at the items, feeling something clench in my stomach; this wasn't good. "It was _you_?" I whispered, even though we were still quite alone in the common room.

Sam nodded gravely, staring at the vials like he couldn't believe it himself. "I took it. I thought I could do it, but I can't. I don't even know how-" His words drowned in his sobs and he simply sat there, his shoulders heaving as he cried silently into his hand. I was at a loss for words; how on earth was I supposed to deal with this?

"I'm sorry-" He suddenly said, a fearful expression on his face. "I shouldn't have told you. I promised Felicity – I promised I wouldn't. But I can't-" He wiped his face with the sleeves of his jumper and looked up at me, his eyes red and swollen. "Here." I felt his hand grab mine and he pressed the vials into my palm so forcefully as though he was afraid he would change his mind half-way through.

"What – what are you doing?" I stared at Sam, who had risen from his chair, looking slightly wobbly on his feet. Did he expect me to hide the stolen potions ingredients for him until he had found out how to brew the pregnancy test? Was I supposed to help him? I couldn't let him drag me into this mess.

"You're a prefect," he suddenly said, his voice surprisingly clear, "you know what to do with this."

"Sam," I rose in protest but was immediately interrupted by a loud thud, followed by a jumble of different voices that made both Sam and me look up apprehensively. People were apparently returning from dinner and soon the whole room would be bustling with Ravenclaws again.

"I should go," he said quietly and, before I could come up with anything to say, he had turned around and strode away towards the boys' dormitories, leaving me standing there with the vials clutched in my hand.

* * *

><p>The ugly face of the stone gargoyle stared back at me, its mouth slightly opened; just enough to reveal a row of pointy, sharp teeth. It had never looked that menacing before and it seemed to get worse, the longer I stared at it. My hand was buried in the pocket of my uniform cardigan, clutching the vials for reassurance; I was doing the right thing. There was no other way.<p>

I had barely slept last night, rolling around in my bed restlessly, and got up before sunrise, sneaking out of the dormitory. My plan had been to go straight to McGonagall, hand her the stolen ingredients, and be done with it before breakfast. After all, it was not a question of keeping a secret or not: Sam had been quite clear when he had given me the vials; he wanted me to turn him in. I couldn't help being mad at him for dragging me into this. I had never wanted any part of this.

Suddenly, the stone gargoyle rumbled, moving to the side to reveal a tall, cloaked figure, briskly walking down the spiralling staircase. At the sight of Professor McGonagall, a dignified witch with iron grey hair, I took a step backwards, quickly fumbling with my bag, as though I had not just been waiting in front of her office. Unfortunately, my clumsy cover had absolutely no effect.

"Miss Woodley," she said, sounding slightly irritated, "what are you doing here?"

I looked up at her, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. The vials in my pocket suddenly felt unnaturally hot against my skin, yet I couldn't loosen my grasp. I had to tell her. There was no other way. If I didn't hand in the stolen ingredients and report Sam, I would break school rules and maybe even face expulsion.

"Miss Woodley," McGonagall said curtly, yet not unkind, "Are you feeling alright? You look unwell." She was probably referring to the puffy, bluish circles underneath my eyes that had been resistant to any amount of concealer this morning.

"No," I said quickly, "I'm fine. I just – I was-" I paused for a moment, squeezing the vials in my pocket. "I was just looking for Professor Vector. I am having trouble with my Arithmancy homework."

"Well, she would be in the Great Hall for breakfast."

"Oh, yes, right. Thank you, Professor," I blurted and then quickly turned on the spot, walking away before McGonagall could see my bright red face. I had no idea why I hadn't told her. I should have; not only was I now running around school with incriminating objects in my pocket, I was also lying – _again – _for another boy I barely even knew. Maybe my grandmother had been right after all, when she had told me that sympathy made people weak and vulnerable; it didn't get you very far and, hence, was a waste of time.

"Seth!"

I looked up, though not consciously, since my thoughts were still revolving around the vials in my vest pocket. Hence, for a moment I only stared at Albus Potter's face, probably looking rather gormless as my sleep-deprived brain tried to cope with the new situation.

"I was looking for you," he said with a smile on his face; it was the first time I noticed that his eyes were actually green. They contrasted nicely with his black hair.

"OK," I uttered sluggishly after realising that Albus had been looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to respond. I must have sounded really stupid, since he furrowed his brow, the smile fading from his lips.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, sure," I waved my hand as casually as possible, barely missing Albus' face, "I'm sorry. I didn't sleep much last night."

Albus continued to frown at me and, for a moment, I was sure he was going to ask me why. Yet, when he spoke again, it was about something else entirely.

"I – I wanted to talk to you about, well, last Saturday."

"Oh, um, sure." I had actually hoped that I would never have to talk about the embarrassing encounter in that forsaken corridor again. It wasn't exactly a moment I wanted to remember.

"What you saw, well, I just wanted to ask you-" Albus halted, a sheepish look on his face. "Laura and I are not officially going out and we don't want anybody to know yet. It would be great if you could, um, keep this a secret for now?"

I felt an unexpected twinge in my stomach, yet I managed a flimsy smile. "Sure!" I blurted brightly, "I always do!"

I wasn't entirely sure why I had said it like this; it sounded as though I had loads of friends who I regularly walked in on when they were snogging in dark corridors. I actually had not thought it possible, but my attempt at being cool, had made me look even more pathetic.

"OK, great." Albus gave me another smile. "Thank you."

"Sure thing," I said in an odd voice that made me sound like a 90s rapper on speed. It was the obvious sign for me to leave, before I could embarrass myself even more.

"Well, I promised Katie I would meet her at breakfast, so – I see you around."

Albus nodded, his hands buried in the pockets of his uniform trousers. "Yeah. I see you around."

I watched him walk away and, as soon as he had turned the next corner, I let my back hit the stone wall and closed my eyes. At least, sixth year couldn't possibly get any worse than this.

**A/N: Hello awesome reader! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, which is a little filler-y, yet somehow necessary to propel the plot into the right direction. Feel free to review, critique, comment, ask, etc.! I'm excited about every comment :). Most of all, I want to wish you all a merry Christmas (or Chanukah, or Kwanzaa) and relaxing holidays :).**


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